I never advertised this blog. Only a few people seem to know about it. In fact,I don't think my wife or kids even know about it. I started it as a kind of repository for my thoughts and anything else I wanted to save, and not necessarily on the hard drive. So, if you're reading this and it seems a little grandiose at times, it was never meant as much more than a diary. It's for me - so there.
Some time ago, while Kayla was still with Jason Klune, his father gave me a gift.It was a christian-oriented book; a trilogy called "The Christ Clone Trilogy". I read the books, which were basically a fantasy built around the author's interpretation of events preceding the second coming and how a number of passages in the Book of Revelation might be understood.
Now, the book had a number of comments regarding LSD church "doctrine" that I suppose Bill felt I should be aware of. He knows very well I'm LDS, and I know he liked Kayla very much, so I think he may have done this out of a genuine concern for my spiritual welfare. However, the statements were so far-fetched and even outrageous that I felt he should be made familiar with the facts, so I wrote him a thank-you letter and addressed these issues. One thing led to another and as is typical it probably got a little out of hand and the letter became a tome. Wasn't intentional. Just seemed there was so much to say. Anyway, here is the letter.
July 20, 2008
Bill,
I want to thank you for sending me the “Christ Clone Trilogy” books. I thought it was a very interesting interpretation of the events of the second coming of Christ. I’ve wondered which, or how many of the events in Revelations should be understood literally or symbolically. I’m not sure the Lord has made it very clear one way or the other. One thing I am sure of is that they will be fulfilled, and when it is over with we will understand it clearly.
It seems pretty obvious from the implied chronology that the author feels it’s going to happen pretty soon. I believe he is right. I know this has been a common feeling among most Christians for the last couple of hundred years, but in the eternal span of things, what’s a couple hundred years? But I’ve often felt that if I lived long enough, maybe into my 80’s, that I’ll see it. One thing I feel very strong about is that our children will see it.
I hadn’t heard of these books before, so I didn’t really know where the author would be coming from. I admit I almost stopped reading when I got to the part where Christopher starts his rant against Yahweh and starts preaching New Age. I thought, “Oh, no. Here we go; a plug for New Age, secularism and all that goes with it.” I put it away for a couple of days when it occurred to me that for all his apparent goodness Christopher met a lot of the requirements for the Anti-Christ; the wound to the head that wouldn’t heal, etc., so I picked it up again.
I thought it was interesting that he has the Jews fleeing to Petra. I don’t recall anything in the Bible naming Petra as the place, but I guess that’s author’s privilege. Coincidentally my sister’s son-in-law just returned from Petra with the BYU Archeology Department doing a dig in a number of Nabataean tombs. He sent pictures through their family blog and described the buildings and what they found. I know they won’t mind if I give you the web address. It’s http://bradandchelsea.blogspot.com/. Turn down the sound if you don’t want to hear the music Chelsea put on it (actually it’s pretty good; eclectic and easy on the ears). You may have to go back a ways into the blog to see it all. He was there for some time and came home about a month ago.
I guess it’s safe to assume you read the books and know what’s the author says about the LDS faith, so I assume you may also be curious about my thoughts on it. If not, I apologize for the big letter, but it’s important to me that you understand where my faith comes from, what we really believe, and why, especially since there seems to be a chance that our families may be connected someday.
The great Anglican theologian Austin Farrer warned, “Though argument does not create conviction, the lack of it destroys belief. What seems to be proved may not be embraced; but what no one shows the ability to defend is quickly abandoned.” I too don’t believe that argument converts, but a lack of defensibility implies there is nothing defensible.
On pages 151-152 the author, speaking through Scott Rosen, makes a point of “explaining” Mormon beliefs. He makes some declarative statements that are flat out incorrect. And though he doesn’t come right out and say it, he implies that Mormons aren’t “Christian” since he lists us along with Islam, Taoism, Buddhism, and Hinduism, etc. This idea that we’re not Christian gets thrown at us all the time, but it’s because certain groups redefined the definition of “Christian” so tightly that only they seem to qualify. Sort of like writing technical specs for a piece of equipment that are so strict only one manufacturer can bid even though there are other qualified suppliers. I think a lot of them would be surprised to find out that according to their definitions of “true Christianity”, for example based on the Godhead (Trinity) using the Nicene Creed as a standard they automatically exclude about 1/3 of the western Christian religions and all of the Eastern Orthodox and Coptic Christian churches.
But he seems to be a very believing, faithful person, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that he’s repeating statements from people he believes are authorities and doesn’t actually know much about our beliefs. I can’t go into a lot of detail of where he misquotes or just misses the mark, but I think a couple of examples can show his understanding of Mormon doctrine and history is vague and borrowed.
The author leans heavily on discrediting Joseph Smith in regards to the origins of “The Book of Abraham” as found in one of our set of scriptures known as the “Pearl of Great Price”. He uses as a source Fawn Brodie’s 1933 book, “No Man Knows My History, The Life of Joseph Smith”. Almost no one takes Ms. Brodie's book seriously any more it’s so full of misquotes, assumptions and bad research. In 1946 it was reviewed and discredited by Hugh Nibley in “No Ma’am, That’s Not History” as a good example of non-scholarly writing. Klaus Baer listed in that footnote as one of the two translators of the two books the author claims are the actual papyri translations but which have nothing to do with the Book of Abraham. I think it’s interesting that Dr. Nibley was one of Dr. Baer’s first students and was famous inside and outside of the LDS church for his extensive knowledge of and volumes of work on Egyptian studies. Historical documents show that there were at least 5 papyri and only two have been recovered. The history and content of those papyri has been the source of many studies by both LDS and non-LDS scholars. If you’re interested you can read a good review at http://maxwellinstitute.byu.edu/display.php?table=review&id=224 and there are links to others.
The author makes two other sweeping statements that are blatantly wrong. For one thing he claims that Joseph supposedly learned from the papyri that “black people were supposed to be servants and slaves to whites and Asians.” This is outrageous and I have to believe that he’s never read the Book of Abraham or he would know that there is no such passage or doctrine in this or any other LDS scriptures, direct or implied.
When Joseph ran for president in 1844 he ran on an emancipation/abolitionist platform calling for the Federal government to pay the slave owners for their slaves and release them to freedom. This is a matter of public record. One of the reasons for the Missouri persecutions, when the church was driven out of that state was because the predominately New England Mormons weren’t slave owners and they were upsetting the political balance of a slave state.
It also bothers me a little that in talking about comparing religions the author says on page 150, “We compare everything about them, but we never get around to looking at whether any of the religions can be proven true. Then on page 154 he says, “I never cared much for blind faith, Mr. Hawthorne. I want something that can prove itself worthy before I put my trust in it”. As he discredits other religions he does so based on the alleged lack of physical proof of their origins or traditions. Maybe I misunderstand him, and this seems to fly in the face of Hebrews 11:1 but if physical evidence is what he wants, let’s give it to him.
Regarding the origins of Book of Mormon he makes the statement on page 151, “Unfortunately for our search for proof, there has never been any shred of archaeological evidence to support Smith’s account of the history of the Americas. Not one non-Mormon archaeologist or scholar has ever found anything to lend even the slightest credence to Smith’s claims.” This is an old and worn-out claim by LDS critics Gerald and Sandra Tanner and anyway he’s pretty out of touch with what’s been going on in the last several decades in Meso-american Archaeology.
When the Book of Mormon first came out next to nothing was known about the people of Meso-america, so any written statements about their culture, origins or religion would have been foolish to make and impossible to back up. This would be a pretty stupid thing for an unschooled farm boy like Joseph to write about and presumably easy to discredit.
Quoting an excerpt from “Archaeological Evidence and the Book of Mormon” by Michael R. Ash,
“It is also worth noting that there is a growing body of evidence from New World archaeology that supports the Book of Mormon. Dr. John Clark of the New World Archaeological Foundation has compiled a list of sixty items mentioned in the Book of Mormon. The list includes items such as "steel swords," "barley," "cement," "thrones," and literacy. In 1842, only eight (or 13.3%) of those sixty items were confirmed by archaeological evidence. Thus, in the mid-nineteenth century, archaeology did not support the claims made by the Book of Mormon.
“As the efforts of archaeology have shed light on the ancient New World, we find in 2005 that forty-five of those sixty items (75%) have been confirmed. Thirty-five of the items (58%) have been definitively confirmed by archaeological evidence and ten items (17%) have received possible--tentative, yet not fully verified--confirmation. Therefore, as things stand at the moment, current New World archaeological evidence tends to verify the claims made by the Book of Mormon.”
If you’re interested you can read the entire writing at: http://www.fairlds.org/Book_of_Mormon/Archaeological_Evidence_and_the_Book_of_Mormon.html and a direct response to the Tanners claim at http://farms.byu.edu/display.php?table=review&id=532.
If Joseph wrote the Book of Mormon himself then he made some pretty bold statements in the story about Lehi’s family leaving Jerusalem to travel into the Arabian Desert. I’ll cover only two of them.
In 1830 Arabia was pretty much a mystery to every one in the west except a handful of specialized scholars, and the prevailing notion was that it was a barren, waterless wasteland, which it is. In 1 Nephi, chapter 2, Nephi (or Joseph if you will) describes a river in a valley that ran into the Red Sea, three days journey into the wilderness. This used to be a point of ridicule for Book of Mormon critics since no such place was known to exist and it was believed impossible in that climate.
Book of Mormon scholars believe that the only possible path of travel for Lehi’s family would have had to be the Frankincense Trail, which roughly parallels Arabia State Highway 5 and started at the northern tip of the Gulf of Aqaba, a branch of the Red Sea and went south along the arable parts of western Arabia. The area called wilderness would be the uncultivated, nomadic areas along the trail, not immediately outside of Jerusalem where they started from. A camel can travel about 20 miles a day in this sandy terrain. About 60 miles south of the town of Aqaba at the northern tip of the gulf, west of highway 5 is the oasis of Tayyib al Ism. Running west from there for about 5 miles into and through the mountains is a desert stream, which until recently due to ground water pumping, ran year-round and emptied into the Gulf of Aqaba. (Remember, this is a desert river like what you and I know from our area, not what Joseph would think of in upstate New York).The narrow range through which it cuts is 1,200 to 1,800 feet high, dropping immediately onto the beach. Keep in mind that the only way a stream can cut through a mountain is for that stream to have been there before geologic pressures pushed the range up, and that stream has to run pretty much all the time or the rising ground will cut it off and divert it somewhere else. You can see the oasis on Google Earth at 28 d 33’ 59.95” N, 34 d 50’ 00.18” E and follow the stream west from there. If you zoom in on the upper course of the stream you can see water still on the surface in some spots. I’d say it’s pretty coincidental that Joseph in 1830 in New York would describe a feature like this in Arabia that actually exists.
Second, 1 Nephi 17: 5 says that near the end of their journey they traveled due East on their trail and that they “did travel and wade through much affliction in the wilderness” At the end of this part of the trail they wound up in a land on the sea coast that they named Bountiful “…because of its much fruit and also wild honey”. There the prophet Nephi was commanded by God to build a ship, so it implies that there was timber available too.
At the southern end of the Frankincense Trail a branch of the trail turns due east and crosses a huge barren sand dune area for hundreds of miles. That trail leads to an area where Frankincense trees grow near the borders of the present-day countries of Yemen and Oman, and ends in the coastal plain at the city of Salalah, Oman. You can see it on Google Earth at 17d 00’ 53.27” N, 54d 05’ 30.22” E.
There are several interesting things about Salalah. Its coastal plain - which is only about 80 miles long and 20 miles deep - is surrounded by high hills that cut it off from the desert and gather moisture coming in from the Indian Ocean. It is green and lush most of the year round with grasses and trees, streams and rivers flowing into the sea, just as Nephi (or Joseph) described it. When you look it up on Google Earth you can click on the many pictures of the large trees, streams, rivers and waterfalls that tourists have posted. There is no other place like it anywhere on the Arabian Peninsula. Some of the tourists’ comments are that it looks more like the Amazon. What’s more, it is a very ancient ship building city and for centuries used to receive teak wood shipments from India to build them.
So the question has to be, how could an unschooled farm boy living in upstate New York in 1830 have particular knowledge of a land that no one in his day in the US and Western Europe knew anything about? The answer is that he didn’t. He translated a record written by people who had been there and actually lived the events.
Personally, as interesting as all this may be I don’t believe that physical evidence constitutes a true basis for faith in Christ. Faith has to be much stronger than that; “…the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” But God also keeps His own rules and as Paul said in 2 Cor. 13:1, quoting the Law of Moses, “In the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established.”
So, regarding the golden plates from which Joseph translated the Book of Mormon, on pages 151-152 the author says, “And as for the golden tablets (by the way, they were plates bound like a large book, not tablets), Smith said that after he translated them, an angel took them into heaven, so we don’t have any physical evidence that there even were any tablets. There were eleven other people who said Smith had shown them the tablets, but all were either close friends or members of Smith’s family, and the stories these witnesses told did not match in many of their important details.”
The first three witnesses, Oliver Cowdery, David Whitmer, and Martin Harris wrote this statement that appears near the title page of the Book of Mormon. They wrote that they;
“…through the grace of God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, have seen the plates which contain this record, which is a record of the people of Nephi, and also of the Lamanites, their brethren, and also of the people of Jared, who came from the tower of which hath been spoken. And we also know that they have been translated by the gift and power of God, for his voice hath declared it unto us; wherefore we know of a surety that the work is true. And we also testify that we have seen the engravings which are upon the plates; and they have been shown unto us by the power of God, and not of man. And we declare with words of soberness, that an angel of God came down from heaven, and he brought and laid before our eyes, that we beheld and saw the plates, and the engravings thereon; and we know that it is by the grace of God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, that we beheld and bear record that these things are true.” (Underlining is mine)
This is a pretty heavy statement. What the author either conveniently leaves out or doesn’t know - I tend to think the latter is true - is that all three men fell away from the church not very many years later and were excommunicated for their hostility towards Joseph. Yet to the end of their lives none of them ever recanted their testimony, and they had plenty of opportunity and reason to do it. Oliver Cowdery who had acted as a scribe to Joseph during most of the translation practiced law years later in Missouri - a Mormon-hostile state - after leaving the church. On one occasion during a trial he was challenged by the opposing attorney about his witness to the Book of Mormon in an effort to discredit him. In the middle of this trial he bore solemn testimony of what he had seen and that it was true and he couldn’t deny it. This is also a matter of public record. Oliver and Martin eventually returned to the church many years later. David never did, but he never denied his story either.
The other eight witnesses wrote:
“…Joseph Smith, Jun., the translator of this work, has shown unto us the plates of which hath been spoken, which have the appearance of gold; and as many of the leaves as the said Smith has translated we did handle with our hands; and we also saw the engravings thereon, all of which has the appearance of ancient work, and of curious workmanship. And this we bear record with words of soberness, that the said Smith has shown unto us, for we have seen and hefted, and know of a surety that the said Smith has got the plates of which we have spoken. And we give our names unto the world, to witness unto the world that which we have seen. And we lie not, God bearing witness of it. (Underlining mine)
These witnesses were different from the first in that they were not shown the plates by an angel, nor did they hear the voice of God, but were shown them by Joseph. Of these eight, the two members of the Whitmer family and Hiram Page fell away from the church at one point or another (Christian and Peter Whitmer both died in 1835), but none of them ever recanted their testimony and defended the book to the end of their lives. Mormons were very unpopular at that time, so it would have been very natural to recant if it hadn’t been true. These kinds of witnesses would hold up in any court of law. Why are people so eager to disregard them off-hand?
Additionally, Josephs own wife Emma drifted away from the church after Joseph was killed. Years later when the church was in Utah and she had remarried and was old and living in Illinois she wrote a statement about the plates and Joseph’s work:
“The plates often lay on the table without any attempt at concealment, wrapped in a small linen tablecloth, which I had given him [Joseph Smith, Jr.] to fold them in. I once felt of the plates, as they thus lay on the table, tracing their outline and shape. They seemed to be pliable like thick paper, and would rustle with a metallic sound when the edges were moved by the thumb, as one does sometimes thumb the edges of a book. … I did not attempt to handle the plates, other than I have told you, nor uncover them to look at them. I was satisfied that it was the work of God, and therefore did not feel it to be necessary to do so. … I moved them from place to place on the table, as it was necessary in doing my work.” (The Saints’ Herald, 1 Oct. 1879, p. 290; spelling modernized.)
Even though Emma did not see the plates directly, what she had seen and felt by the Spirit deepened her conviction of the truth of the Book of Mormon. As a result, she bore this powerful witness and testimony of the book to her son:
“My belief is that the Book of Mormon is of divine authenticity—I have not the slightest doubt of it. I am satisfied that no man could have dictated the writing of the manuscripts unless he was inspired; for, when acting as his scribe, your father would dictate to me hour after hour; and when returning after meals, or after interruptions, he would at once begin where he had left off, without either seeing the manuscript or having any portion of it read to him. This was a usual thing for him to do. It would have been improbable that a learned man could do this; and, for one so ignorant and unlearned as he was, it was simply impossible.” (Ibid.)
Scott Rosen makes the statement on page 155 referring to the early apostles being persecuted and killed for their testimony of the resurrection; “…do you think they would have willingly died as martyrs for something they knew was a lie?” … “I’m talking about people, who, if the resurrection was a lie would have known it! These people said they had seen Jesus resurrected from the dead and chose to die rather than change their story.” This isn’t physical evidence for belief and I think he makes an excellent point.
One last statement he makes through Rosen on page 173 that I thought was interesting was in relating the story of the two thieves on the cross with Christ. He quotes Luke 23:42 & 43 where the one thief asks Christ to remember him when He comes into His kingdom. He writes, “Jesus’ response to the thief was very unusual. He didn’t give him a list of things to do so that he could be accepted by God. He didn’t tell him he had to be baptized, or sanctified, or take communion, or do good works, or walk across burning coals, or make a pilgrimage, or chant, or anything. He simply said ‘I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.’”
What’s interesting is that he equates paradise with the Kingdom of God and lists several specific things that he says are unnecessary to reach the kingdom that contradict what Christ himself said in other places. Now rather than deconstructing the author’s position I want to explain more what we as Latter-day Saints believe. I won’t get into the aspect of the necessity of sanctification as taught by Paul and Peter, but I’ll touch on baptism and good works.
Before I discuss good works I need to tell you that Mormons do NOT believe that works save us, rather they are the outgrowth and evidence of true faith as taught by the apostle James. I can’t make it any more plain than a few passages from the Book of Mormon;
“And now, my brethren, I have spoken plainly that ye cannot err. And as the Lord God liveth that brought Israel up out of the land of Egypt, and gave unto Moses power that he should heal the nations after they had been bitten by the poisonous serpents, if they would cast their eyes unto the serpent which he did raise up before them, and also gave him power that he should smite the rock and the water should come forth; yea, behold I say unto you, that as these things are true, and as the Lord God liveth, there is none other name given under heaven save it be this Jesus Christ, of which I have spoken, whereby man can be saved. For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.” (2 Nephi 25: 20 & 23, Italics mine)
This is Mormon doctrine pure and simple. Irrespective of what some other churches say about us we do not believe there is any other path to salvation except through Christ. But the Lord himself said works were essential to faith and not a simple declaration of belief.
“Ye shall know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them. Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity. Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: (Mathew 7: 16-24, italics and underlining mine)
Clearly, from the Lord’s own mouth a simple verbal declaration of faith is not enough, rather faithful obedience and doing what the Lord commands is the measure of faith. As I said above, good works are the outgrowth and evidence of true faith as taught by the apostle James (James1:22-25 and Chapter 2). In “Mere Christianity” C. S. Lewis said that arguing about which was more important, faith or works, was like arguing about which blade of a pair of scissors was the most important. Obviously neither is effective without the other.
Regarding baptism, Christ told Nicodemus in John 3:5 “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.” This being born of water is commonly understood by the majority of religious scholars to refer to baptism, the ritual sign of the covenant we make with God that we will take upon us Christ’s name, remember Him always and keep His commandments. It is both symbolic of washing and cleansing of sins and of death, burial and rebirth of the new man. At the end of Mathew the very last commandment he gives to his apostles here is,
“Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you…” (Mathew 28:19 & 20, italics mine).
To emphasize the importance of baptism Christ himself went to John the Baptist to be baptized. John, knowing that the covenant was for repentance and cleansing, and knowing that Christ was pure and blameless was astonished and said “I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?” Christ told him “Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.” In other words, although Christ knew he had done nothing to be cleansed of he was keeping God’s law and his own commandments in every way, and showing us the way by being baptized under proper, recognized authority as an example. (Mathew 3: 13-17) There are plenty of other statements by Christ and passages in the apostolic letters regarding the necessity of baptism to be saved, but this will do for now.
So Christ teaches that baptism and faith as shown through how we try to live our lives is essential to enter the Kingdom. Yet he told the thief that he (the thief) would be with him in paradise that very day. Christ can’t lie, so how do we reconcile these statements and requirements. It begs the question as to whether Paradise and the Kingdom of God is the same thing. It also leads to the question, if these things are essential to salvation what about all the billions of people who lived without ever hearing about Christ before they died, much less being baptized? Does the Father care so little for them as to reject them out of hand or is there a way for them too?
The Bible gives the answer to both questions. The morning of the resurrection Mary Magdalene and others came to the tomb to finish the burial preparations. In brief they found the tomb empty so everyone but Mary left the garden. The risen Lord met her there:
And … she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master. Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God. (John 20:14-17, italics mine)
Now if He hadn’t ascended to the Father yet, where was he for those days His body was in the tomb? Peter tells us:
For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit: By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison; Which sometime were disobedient, when once the longsuffering of God waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water. (1 Peter 3: 18-20, italics mine)
Now this talks only about a prison where the spirits of those who lived during the time of Noah are kept, and Christ went to them after his death to preach, but it only speaks of a prison. Here’s where the Book of Mormon sheds more light.
And now I would inquire what becometh of the souls of men from this time of death to the time appointed for the resurrection? Therefore, there is a time appointed unto men that they shall rise from the dead; and there is a space between the time of death and the resurrection. And now, concerning this space of time, what becometh of the souls of men is the thing which I have inquired diligently of the Lord to know; and this is the thing of which I do know. Now, concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection—Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body, yea, the spirits of all men, whether they be good or evil, are taken home to that God who gave them life. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow. And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of the wicked, yea, who are evil—for behold, they have no part nor portion of the Spirit of the Lord; for behold, they chose evil works rather than good; therefore the spirit of the devil did enter into them, and take possession of their house—and these shall be cast out into outer darkness; there shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and this because of their own iniquity, being led captive by the will of the devil. Now this is the state of the souls of the wicked, yea, in darkness, and a state of awful, fearful looking for the fiery indignation of the wrath of God upon them; thus they remain in this state, as well as the righteous in paradise, until the time of their resurrection. (Alma 40: 7, 9 & 11-14, italics and underlining mine)
Peter says the state of the wicked is prison, Alma teaches us that the state of the righteous is called paradise, and that this is before the resurrection and judgment. Christ told the thief he would be with him in paradise that day. Modern-day revelation teaches us even more about this condition. In a vision, given to President Joseph F. Smith in Salt Lake City, Utah, on October 3, 1918 he describes what was shown to him:
And I wondered at the words of Peter—wherein he said that the Son of God preached unto the spirits in prison, who sometime were disobedient, when once the long-suffering of God waited in the days of Noah—and how it was possible for him to preach to those spirits and perform the necessary labor among them in so short a time. And as I wondered, my eyes were opened, and my understanding quickened, and I perceived that the Lord went not in person among the wicked and the disobedient who had rejected the truth, to teach them; But behold, from among the righteous, he organized his forces and appointed messengers, clothed with power and authority, and commissioned them to go forth and carry the light of the gospel to them that were in darkness, even to all the spirits of men; and thus was the gospel preached to the dead. And the chosen messengers went forth to declare the acceptable day of the Lord and proclaim liberty to the captives who were bound, even unto all who would repent of their sins and receive the gospel. Thus was the gospel preached to those who had died in their sins, without a knowledge of the truth, or in transgression, having rejected the prophets. These were taught faith in God, repentance from sin, vicarious baptism for the remission of sins, the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands, And all other principles of the gospel that were necessary for them to know in order to qualify themselves that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit. And so it was made known among the dead, both small and great, the unrighteous as well as the faithful, that redemption had been wrought through the sacrifice of the Son of God upon the cross. Thus was it made known that our Redeemer spent his time during his sojourn in the world of spirits, instructing and preparing the faithful spirits of the prophets who had testified of him in the flesh; That they might carry the message of redemption unto all the dead, unto whom he could not go personally, because of their rebellion and transgression, that they through the ministration of his servants might also hear his words. (Doctrine and Covenants 138: 28-37)
So salvation is made available to all the billions of those who lived and died either rebelliously, not understanding or without ever hearing of Christ, something the author never even alludes to. What justice or love would there be in Christ if He just cast these people off because they never knew? I also think of all the people who did hear about Christ but were taught it was a lie, or were taught twisted versions of Christian doctrine, or only knew bad examples of Christians such as abusive, self-righteous parents who claimed to be followers of Christ but abused their wives or children or just plain lived horrible lives. Who would give any credibility to such a persons proclaimed religion? I don’t know of any other Christian denomination that can explain how all these people, children of a loving God can have a chance at salvation and eternal happiness.
Well this letter is already long enough. I’ve heard a lot of very odd things from other people about what Mormons supposedly believe and I think it’s strange that there are so many who seem to think they have to attack us instead of relying on the strength of their own doctrines to attract or keep their congregations.
We invite faithful people to keep whatever truths they have and add to that what we have to offer. We don’t ask them to accept what we teach on face value, but tell them to ask the Father in sincere prayer if it’s true, and to act on the answer. The Book of Mormon has this promise:
And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things. (Moroni 10: 4-5, underlining mine)
I know this book is real scripture. I know Joseph was a real prophet and that he translated it by the gift and power of God. I know there are real prophets and apostles with priesthood authority today and I’m grateful for it. Some time ago I gave a copy of the Book of Mormon to Jason. I hope you take the opportunity to read it yourself and try the promise. I know if you’re serious you’ll get the same answer I got a long time ago.
I also want to thank you for being such good friends to my only daughter. Kayla is basically very innocent and still has a lot to learn about life and her religion, but she is a sweetheart and I love her very much. I really appreciated your gesture of confidence allowing your mom’s name be added to the temple prayer list. Her name will be kept on the list for at least two weeks. I work at the Los Angeles temple every Friday evening. It has got to be one of the best church callings I’ve ever had. I get to associate with some of the best people I’ve ever met, but most of all I get to be in the House of the Lord and serve and learn like I never have before. I hope you get that same privilege someday.
Sincerely,
Gordon
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Faith and Works
This is really very hypocritical. I am always a little disappointed when I check the kid's blogs and there is nothing new for several weeks, or in the case of Jason and Sarah, who now exclusively use Face Book, that there is nothing new at all, ever. Then I look at my own blog and realize how long I've neglected it, and I have no room to criticize. So, here goes...
I had an experience several months ago, and I think the Lord was, once again, trying to get me to understand the relationship between faith and works. I have a project going on out in Hesperia installing a bus wash system for Victor Valley Transit. When we had gotten a particular piece of equipment erected we noticed that the connections to the air cylinders were the wrong type and that the cylinders had to be replaced with the correct ones. Rather than bring the entire crew back to the job I chose to replace them myself, so I loaded my 25' extension ladder and drove the 1 1/2 hour trip to Hesperia.
To remove the cylinders I had to climb my ladder about 16'up. This is not an A-frame ladder, so I have to lean it against whatever I'm working on. All I had was the brush frame, which really wasn't a very stable support that high up. There were 4 cylinders, each on its own frame. The first two came off relatively easy. The third wouldn't budge, so I went to the last one and took it off, then returned to the stubborn one. By this time I was fairly tired because when I say the first three came off easily, that's a relative statement. It was work and I was sweating pretty profusely by this time.
I just could not budge the nut off the bolt. I had ratchets with me, but it turned out the bolt head and nut were 1 1/8", and the largest socket I had was 1", so I had to use a pair of adjustable wrenches. I worked at this for at least a half an hour with no success. I got some initial movement, but it froze up. I kept second-guessing myself and wondered if I was inadvertently tightening the nut. But, "righty tighty, lefty loosey", so I was doing it right, but it just wasn't budging.
I finally decided I had only two options; I could go home and get the large socket and a torque wrench - and this would mean a 3 hour round trip, and it was already close to noon, or I could ask the Lord for help.
To be honest, I felt a little foolish asking Him for help on something that in the eternal scheme of things probably just wasn't that important. But it was important to me, so I reasoned he would give the requested help. So perched on top of my ladder I offered a prayer and explained what my situation was, what my options were and asked if He might not help me out. I was left with a distinct impression that it could be done, but not without a real effort and different approach. Kyle and I had been having numerous discussions about the relationship between faith and works and how our best efforts are required. I was about to get a real object lesson on this.
I was impressed to shift my position and extend my left leg out to push against the wall, leaving my right leg on the ladder, and to hold the main frame in a hooking position with my left arm, pushing my self away from my work an arm's length to push the other wrench with my right hand while pulling with my left arm. I had the wrench holding the nut braced against part of the frame so I didn't need my left hand for that one.
This was NOT a safe position. Any slip or sudden move of the ladder and I could fall to the concrete floor. But it allowed me to use my leg and upper body strength and put my weight into the push on the wrench. The result was that by pushing with my entire upper body and leg I was able to turn the bolt 1/6 of a turn. Each time I repeated this I was able to move the bolt the same distance. Now, since these bolts are hexagonal it took 6 pushes to turn the bolt one complete turn - and the nut was almost an inch thick, with about 1/2" of bolt extending through the bottom. It was an aircraft nut, which means it has a ring of plastic - nylon I think - built into the bottom, which keeps the nut from working loose. I thought to myself, "As soon as I clear the bolt from the plastic ring it will be easy to get it off". As near as I could tell I had about 15 to 20 full turns to remove the nut completely, but maybe 6 or 8 to clear the plastic ring.
Well, it didn't work out that way. Even after I cleared the nylon ring the bolt was as a stubborn as ever. I figured it must be cross-threaded to be this difficult. But I was making progress, however slowly, and I didn't want to quit and have to come back again. After about 10 minutes I was drenched in sweat, my legs and arms were shaking, and I didn't feel much closer to getting it off. I found that if I stopped and rested every couple of minutes for about a minute I was able to get back to it.
I think it was about a half an hour, maybe 45 minutes before I got the nut off. I checked it out and found there was no cross-threading. I took the bolt out and hand threaded the nut all the way in, then hand turned it all the way out, including past the nylon ring. It was no problem. About 5 minutes later I had the new cylinder on and was putting away my tools and tying the ladder to the truck bed.
I thought about this to try to learn the lesson the Lord was obviously trying to teach me. What I decided was: He does listen to, and answers even the simple, mundane requests when sincerely offered. Second, never expect the Lord to do something for us we can do for ourselves. Third, even when He shows us the way to do it, don't expect Him to make it easy for us. He typically gives us just enough strength to get it done, but will not do it for us. He wants children of character and faith, which means that we must continue with our every effort to do what needs to be done, even when it appears that things are not working the way we expect, and have faith to accomplish it.
I had an experience several months ago, and I think the Lord was, once again, trying to get me to understand the relationship between faith and works. I have a project going on out in Hesperia installing a bus wash system for Victor Valley Transit. When we had gotten a particular piece of equipment erected we noticed that the connections to the air cylinders were the wrong type and that the cylinders had to be replaced with the correct ones. Rather than bring the entire crew back to the job I chose to replace them myself, so I loaded my 25' extension ladder and drove the 1 1/2 hour trip to Hesperia.
To remove the cylinders I had to climb my ladder about 16'up. This is not an A-frame ladder, so I have to lean it against whatever I'm working on. All I had was the brush frame, which really wasn't a very stable support that high up. There were 4 cylinders, each on its own frame. The first two came off relatively easy. The third wouldn't budge, so I went to the last one and took it off, then returned to the stubborn one. By this time I was fairly tired because when I say the first three came off easily, that's a relative statement. It was work and I was sweating pretty profusely by this time.
I just could not budge the nut off the bolt. I had ratchets with me, but it turned out the bolt head and nut were 1 1/8", and the largest socket I had was 1", so I had to use a pair of adjustable wrenches. I worked at this for at least a half an hour with no success. I got some initial movement, but it froze up. I kept second-guessing myself and wondered if I was inadvertently tightening the nut. But, "righty tighty, lefty loosey", so I was doing it right, but it just wasn't budging.
I finally decided I had only two options; I could go home and get the large socket and a torque wrench - and this would mean a 3 hour round trip, and it was already close to noon, or I could ask the Lord for help.
To be honest, I felt a little foolish asking Him for help on something that in the eternal scheme of things probably just wasn't that important. But it was important to me, so I reasoned he would give the requested help. So perched on top of my ladder I offered a prayer and explained what my situation was, what my options were and asked if He might not help me out. I was left with a distinct impression that it could be done, but not without a real effort and different approach. Kyle and I had been having numerous discussions about the relationship between faith and works and how our best efforts are required. I was about to get a real object lesson on this.
I was impressed to shift my position and extend my left leg out to push against the wall, leaving my right leg on the ladder, and to hold the main frame in a hooking position with my left arm, pushing my self away from my work an arm's length to push the other wrench with my right hand while pulling with my left arm. I had the wrench holding the nut braced against part of the frame so I didn't need my left hand for that one.
This was NOT a safe position. Any slip or sudden move of the ladder and I could fall to the concrete floor. But it allowed me to use my leg and upper body strength and put my weight into the push on the wrench. The result was that by pushing with my entire upper body and leg I was able to turn the bolt 1/6 of a turn. Each time I repeated this I was able to move the bolt the same distance. Now, since these bolts are hexagonal it took 6 pushes to turn the bolt one complete turn - and the nut was almost an inch thick, with about 1/2" of bolt extending through the bottom. It was an aircraft nut, which means it has a ring of plastic - nylon I think - built into the bottom, which keeps the nut from working loose. I thought to myself, "As soon as I clear the bolt from the plastic ring it will be easy to get it off". As near as I could tell I had about 15 to 20 full turns to remove the nut completely, but maybe 6 or 8 to clear the plastic ring.
Well, it didn't work out that way. Even after I cleared the nylon ring the bolt was as a stubborn as ever. I figured it must be cross-threaded to be this difficult. But I was making progress, however slowly, and I didn't want to quit and have to come back again. After about 10 minutes I was drenched in sweat, my legs and arms were shaking, and I didn't feel much closer to getting it off. I found that if I stopped and rested every couple of minutes for about a minute I was able to get back to it.
I think it was about a half an hour, maybe 45 minutes before I got the nut off. I checked it out and found there was no cross-threading. I took the bolt out and hand threaded the nut all the way in, then hand turned it all the way out, including past the nylon ring. It was no problem. About 5 minutes later I had the new cylinder on and was putting away my tools and tying the ladder to the truck bed.
I thought about this to try to learn the lesson the Lord was obviously trying to teach me. What I decided was: He does listen to, and answers even the simple, mundane requests when sincerely offered. Second, never expect the Lord to do something for us we can do for ourselves. Third, even when He shows us the way to do it, don't expect Him to make it easy for us. He typically gives us just enough strength to get it done, but will not do it for us. He wants children of character and faith, which means that we must continue with our every effort to do what needs to be done, even when it appears that things are not working the way we expect, and have faith to accomplish it.
Monday, March 7, 2011
BYU and Brandon Davies
Excerpts from a Facebook conversation I had with a young man about the situation with Brandon Davies and the BYU basketball team.
First posting, him: A lot of people asking me if I agree with the suspension of Davies from BYU, and I do not. If you wanna know why I'll tell you.
Me: If he signs an oath - and thats what it is - and knows the consequences, then knowingly breaks that oath, he should bear the consequences, as should everyone else. One of the biggest problems today is that too many people think rules don't apply to them and they are somehow exempt from the consequences of their actions. Good for BYU for taking the hard stand.
Him: Hey Brother Risser. I will have to admit I am biased right off the bat having gone to BYU. I completely agree that BYU had every right in suspending Davies as a private institution, and that he signed an oath and broke it. I disagree with ...the punishment though as being too harsh. I think the honor code at BYU should be exactly the same as the LDS standard. Instead, there is a sort of “super-standard” that is not applied to the church as a whole. A perfect example of this is going to the BYU testing center with facial hair and being told that you have to go and shave before you take your test. Yet, the same individual could walk over to the Provo Temple and would be fine and worthy to enter. I don’t like the fact of a double standard being applied by academia for a church institution. With that, the punishment should have met LDS standards in my opinion. I don’t think that his punishment was fair compared to other serious offenses such as a DUI, assault, robbery, etc that have serious negative consequences for other individuals. Davies also confessed on his own according to BYU and this should have factored into their decision. The school should have been more willing to work with him and extend mercy and repentance and could have avoided the airing of his dirty laundry in front of the whole country. That’s just my 2 cents though.
Me: I can understand where you're coming from, but the idea of a double standard isn't quite correct. There are a number of situations where the church has a higher, or more strict standard than the "norm". For example, I have had facial hair in one form or another pretty much all of my life, including when I was at BYU. I always seemed to grow it thicker and longer than they liked. It was after all, the 70's when hair and moustaches were a really big fashion statement. But I work at the temple now and one of the requirements is no facial hair. There's nothing inherently evil with facial hair, but it's a dress standard that has been set for all temple workers. Temple Patrons aren't required to dress or shave according to that standard; only the workers. I knew that going in and I was willing to shave for the privilege of serving there. (I do grow it back every time the temple is closed for maintenance, :) but it comes off each time I go back.) It's the same for missionaries, Bishoprics, Stake Presidencies, High Counsels, etc. and up. If a mere member has a moral issue like adultry, the consequences vary depending on the situation, like you mentioned above. But if a church leader commits the same infraction, the consequences are much, much more rigid.
Attending BYU is a privilege, much more now than when I was there. They have every right to set a higher standard - and keep in mind that the Brethren are the governing board, so the standards are, in the end, either approved by, or created by them.
Finally, I have to say that as far as DUI, assault, etc., having a more serious consequence for others implies that this transgression was a "victimless crime" as it were. This kind of moral transgression has a far more subtle and long-reaching consequence than most people understand. It has the potental to affect a great many people over a much longer period of time than the former.
I would not want to sound like I'm out for Davies' blood. I hope everything works out for him in the long run. But I' m certain he was aware of the consequences long before he got into the situation, and believe me, if the school cut him some slack there would be an uproar inside and outside the church, cries of hypocrasy from everywhere. Most (not all) of those objecting to his dismissal are basically using the "everybody does it" , or, "for Pete's sakes, they're a winning team! Can't they look the other way!!" excuse. ( For example read http://northernstar.info/sports/article_981c2c20-493d-11e0-87a4-00127992bc8b.html ). On the other hand, those siding with the decision are extolling BYU's courage to stand for it's ideals at the risk of losing their standing during a winning season. I really hope this is a life changing and clarifying experience for him and his girlfriend for the better like it was for Mekeli Wesley in '97.
First posting, him: A lot of people asking me if I agree with the suspension of Davies from BYU, and I do not. If you wanna know why I'll tell you.
Me: If he signs an oath - and thats what it is - and knows the consequences, then knowingly breaks that oath, he should bear the consequences, as should everyone else. One of the biggest problems today is that too many people think rules don't apply to them and they are somehow exempt from the consequences of their actions. Good for BYU for taking the hard stand.
Him: Hey Brother Risser. I will have to admit I am biased right off the bat having gone to BYU. I completely agree that BYU had every right in suspending Davies as a private institution, and that he signed an oath and broke it. I disagree with ...the punishment though as being too harsh. I think the honor code at BYU should be exactly the same as the LDS standard. Instead, there is a sort of “super-standard” that is not applied to the church as a whole. A perfect example of this is going to the BYU testing center with facial hair and being told that you have to go and shave before you take your test. Yet, the same individual could walk over to the Provo Temple and would be fine and worthy to enter. I don’t like the fact of a double standard being applied by academia for a church institution. With that, the punishment should have met LDS standards in my opinion. I don’t think that his punishment was fair compared to other serious offenses such as a DUI, assault, robbery, etc that have serious negative consequences for other individuals. Davies also confessed on his own according to BYU and this should have factored into their decision. The school should have been more willing to work with him and extend mercy and repentance and could have avoided the airing of his dirty laundry in front of the whole country. That’s just my 2 cents though.
Me: I can understand where you're coming from, but the idea of a double standard isn't quite correct. There are a number of situations where the church has a higher, or more strict standard than the "norm". For example, I have had facial hair in one form or another pretty much all of my life, including when I was at BYU. I always seemed to grow it thicker and longer than they liked. It was after all, the 70's when hair and moustaches were a really big fashion statement. But I work at the temple now and one of the requirements is no facial hair. There's nothing inherently evil with facial hair, but it's a dress standard that has been set for all temple workers. Temple Patrons aren't required to dress or shave according to that standard; only the workers. I knew that going in and I was willing to shave for the privilege of serving there. (I do grow it back every time the temple is closed for maintenance, :) but it comes off each time I go back.) It's the same for missionaries, Bishoprics, Stake Presidencies, High Counsels, etc. and up. If a mere member has a moral issue like adultry, the consequences vary depending on the situation, like you mentioned above. But if a church leader commits the same infraction, the consequences are much, much more rigid.
Attending BYU is a privilege, much more now than when I was there. They have every right to set a higher standard - and keep in mind that the Brethren are the governing board, so the standards are, in the end, either approved by, or created by them.
Finally, I have to say that as far as DUI, assault, etc., having a more serious consequence for others implies that this transgression was a "victimless crime" as it were. This kind of moral transgression has a far more subtle and long-reaching consequence than most people understand. It has the potental to affect a great many people over a much longer period of time than the former.
I would not want to sound like I'm out for Davies' blood. I hope everything works out for him in the long run. But I' m certain he was aware of the consequences long before he got into the situation, and believe me, if the school cut him some slack there would be an uproar inside and outside the church, cries of hypocrasy from everywhere. Most (not all) of those objecting to his dismissal are basically using the "everybody does it" , or, "for Pete's sakes, they're a winning team! Can't they look the other way!!" excuse. ( For example read http://northernstar.info/sports/article_981c2c20-493d-11e0-87a4-00127992bc8b.html ). On the other hand, those siding with the decision are extolling BYU's courage to stand for it's ideals at the risk of losing their standing during a winning season. I really hope this is a life changing and clarifying experience for him and his girlfriend for the better like it was for Mekeli Wesley in '97.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Special Stake Conference
May 2, 2010
We had a special Stake Conference today. Elder Quentin L. Cook, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came to visit. No one knew that Elder Cook was coming till about three weeks ago so the Stake only had a short time to prepare. From what I understand he was out here to train the presidencies of the ten local stakes and other leaders, and, I believe to start training Jerry Garns, a long-time friend and acquaintance, who was just released as the Valencia Stake President, and called to be an area Seventy last month at General Conference.
I saw Jerry just before the meeting started and congratulated him on his new calling. I know that’s a bit of an awkward thing to do; it’s not the kind of position someone aspires to or takes pride from, and it’s more a privilege and responsibility than an honor, in the secular sense. Jerry was typically self-depreciating and expressed a hope that he would grow into the position. I’m sure he will.
I also spoke briefly with President Lindberg. He was a little nervous and at the same time excited about the whole thing. It’s amazing to me. I’ve watched Steve since he was a small boy and to see the way he’s grown, not just older, but in the grace and strength of Spirit. He is a gentle, wise and really caring person.
I suspected the audience would be larger than normal. We’d been given printed invitations to pass out to friends and neighbors, and I figured that as the word was out we would also get visitors from neighboring stakes, so even though conference didn’t start till 10 AM I went down to reserve a seat for us at 7. There were several members of our ward already there and two investigators who will be getting baptized sometime later this month or next. In the end our ward had at least 4 investigators there, including Kyle’s friend Josh Koulzen (sp?) who we had invited. Bob Keller, the former Santa Clarita Mayor and current city councilman was representing the city and was attending with his wife. I had the chance to talk with him before the meeting and thank him for the support he had given us during the Prop 8 debates and demonstrations. I also spoke briefly with him after the meeting and could see that he had been touched by the messages.
By 9 AM the chapel was full and most of the seats in the cultural hall were taken too. Luckily Cherryl had the day off. She, Adam and mom sat with me just three rows from the front where we had a great view of all speakers. Eventually the crowed spilled over into the Relief Society Room, Scout Room and the Primary Room where closed-circuit television was hooked up. Sherree Poire-Packer and her husband and child sat near the front where an ASL missionary signed the talks for her. I took notes of all the talks. I wish I knew short-hand or some other form of quick, accurate note-taking, but I don’t, so what I write here is essentially expanded notes.
President Lindberg spoke first about families. He referred to “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” I don’t remember if he read directly from it, or if he simply referred to it, but the gist of this part of his message was;
“The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”
He referred to, what the First Presidency has called the “preeminent importance of the family”, and that what we are taught and commit to in the temples is vital to our families. He told us that our homes should be just as sacred and protected from the outside world as the temple is, and that to do this there are four essential family activities that we must do daily:
• Have family prayer
• Hold regular Family Home Evening
• As parents, conduct family gospel study and instruction
• Have regular wholesome family activities
In closing he bore witness of the sacred calling of President Monson as the prophet, seer and revelator of the church, of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and the plan for eternal families.
Sister Wilson, the Stake Relief Society President spoke next. She asked, “What quality defines us best as Latter-day Saints?”
Answering her own question she quoted Matthew 22: 37-40; “Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
She said that for all the good we are doing in the world, the one place for improvement is among those closest to us. That we must learn to love as the Savior does. She gave four things to focus on:
1. Be more considerate and sensitive to the needs of others – encouraging to the youth and those we love.
2. Be complementary to others
3. Be charitable, with our time as well as our means. She explained that sometimes giving our time is more beneficial and meaningful to the recipient than giving money.
4. Be grateful – showing our gratitude not just by what say, but by how we live.
As a summary she read from Alma 7: 23 & 24;
“And now I would that ye should be humble, and be submissive and gentle; easy to be entreated; full of patience and long-suffering; being temperate in all things; being diligent in keeping the commandments of God at all times; asking for whatsoever things ye stand in need, both spiritual and temporal; always returning thanks unto God for whatsoever things ye do receive. And see that ye have faith, hope, and charity, and then ye will always abound in good works.”
She than expressed her gratitude for all the service the sisters in the stake had given in the past years and bore her testimony of the gospel and the truthfulness of the church.
The Stake choir sang a rendition of “Have I Done Any Good in the World Today”
Elder Garns spoke next and expressed gratitude for all the past Stake Presidents who had mentored and taught him: Presidents Stevenson, Larkins and McKeon, and bore testimony of President Lindberg’s calling and capabilities. He expressed his feelings of humility and his desire to learn and fulfill his current calling.
I believe he said he was quoting Elder Bednar who said that when we listen to talks in the church we should not write what is said, rather we should write the things we feel (this while I’m working hard to write down everything as accurately as I could) because it is what the Spirit whispers to our hearts and minds, and it is by the Holy Ghost that we are taught, that while one person hears and learns one thing from what is said, another may get something entirely different, each getting the message that is uniquely tailored to them.
He explained that in order to learn by the spirit two things must happen; we must understand by the Holy Ghost and be edified by what we hear. He quoted Doctrine and Covenants 50:22;
“Wherefore, he that preacheth and he that receiveth, understand one another, and both are edified and rejoice together.”
He then told us of the four Prophetic priorities – the priorities of the First Presidency
1. Strengthen our faith in Christ
2. Strengthen our families
3. Care for and love each other
4. Strengthen priesthood power in the home.
Focusing on the first priority he said we need to develop a greater trust in God and in His willingness to help, no matter how great the need or circumstance, that God can make a way where there is none. We need to learn to obey His commandments and demonstrate that He can trust us to do what He asks of us. He taught that reverence invites revelation; that we need to be still to hear the promptings of the Spirit, and then act courageously to that prompting. He then said we need to learn to be patient and understand when God lets us struggle to grow.
In relation to this, and on a side note, this afternoon I was reading C S Lewis “Paved with Good Intensions” - a sort of summary of the principles explained in “The Screwtape Letter”. For those who have never read the book, the viewpoint here is from a senior devil teaching his nephew, a junior tempte, the best ways to tempt and corrupt a Christian convert. So everything is taken from a negative point of view. Screwtape writes to Wormwood, “Work hard…on the disappointment or anticlimax which is certainly coming to the patient during his first few weeks as a churchman. (By patient he means the recent convert.) The Enemy (meaning God) allows this disappointment to occur on the threshold of every human endeavor. It occurs when the boy who has been enchanted in the nursery by Stories from the Odyssey buckles down to really learning Greek. It occurs when lovers have got married and begin the real task of learning to live together. In every department of life it marks the transition from dreaming aspiration to laborious doing. The Enemy takes this risk because He has a curious fantasy of making all these disgusting little human vermin into what He calls His “free” lovers and servants – “sons” is the word He uses ... Desiring their freedom, He therefore refuses to carry them, by their mere affections and habits, to any of the goals which He sets before them; He leaves them to “do it on their own“. And here lies our opportunity. But also remember, there lies our danger. If once they get through this initial dryness successfully, they become much less dependent on emotion and therefore much harder to tempt.” (Italics mine).
Last of all, Elder Cook spoke.
He started off by relating his experiences when he was in the Philippines, how the people were such hard workers and so faithful in the face of grinding poverty and struggles. He spoke of teaching the principle of gratitude to our children, a love and appreciation for what the Father has provided, and that we show our gratitude by how we serve and live our lives.
He spoke of Christ’s final days before the Atonement and Resurrection. He explained how when Christ suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane, when he bled from every pore, that he was not only suffering for the sins of the world, but also for all the “unfairness” in the world, the suffering of those who did nothing to deserve it, the handicapped, the abused – both children and adults, those suffering from the wrong choices of others who exercised their free agency unrighteously, and how through the Atonement Christ is able to make all things right again.
He stressed our responsibility to share the gospel with others. He taught that we must try to pattern our lives after the Savior, to think about His life and message and example. He remarked how in the last two chapters of John that basically everything the Lord said was for us to go and teach the gospel.
He then bore his special witness of Christ. He said, as near as I accurately wrote it down; “I have had the kind of experiences that allow me to say unequivocally that Jesus is the Christ”
He then said that in his position it is his privilege to leave an Apostolic Blessing on us. He said: These are difficult times; there is a lot of noise in the world, many angry and unsettled people. He promised and blessed us that as we strive to live Christ-like lives, a peace will come into our hearts and we will not get caught up in it (the noise and instability), and that as we demonstrate a willingness to act as Christ did we will know how to reach out to our children and others – what to do to bring them back to the Father.
He blessed us that we would learn that there are things we can do without and to live on less, that we would have “sufficient for our needs” to provide for our families.
He blessed us that we would have warmth and unity in our homes and that our righteous desires would be fulfilled.
The meeting closed with the Hymn “I Believe in Christ”, after which Elder Cook stayed to shake hands and speak with anyone who wished to do so. The line was long as practically everyone wanted to meet him. I waited till the line was almost done and because it was short and there wasn’t any pressure behind me I was able to speak with Elder Garns and President Lindberg a little while longer, and then also with Elder Cook. I told him there were a number of investigators from our ward in the audience and how they had been touched, and also Bob Keller’s comments to me about the meeting.
Now that it’s over it has a kind of dream-like quality to it. There was a subtle and sublime feeling of peace and contentment left behind. I am relying on his blessing, especially since this year is going to be very challenging financially. As in all promised blessings, obtaining those promises always depends on our faith and faithfulness, but I know that Elder Cook really is an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, just as the Apostles in the time of Christ every bit as much as I know my own name. Today was a privilege and a real blessing.
We had a special Stake Conference today. Elder Quentin L. Cook, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came to visit. No one knew that Elder Cook was coming till about three weeks ago so the Stake only had a short time to prepare. From what I understand he was out here to train the presidencies of the ten local stakes and other leaders, and, I believe to start training Jerry Garns, a long-time friend and acquaintance, who was just released as the Valencia Stake President, and called to be an area Seventy last month at General Conference.
I saw Jerry just before the meeting started and congratulated him on his new calling. I know that’s a bit of an awkward thing to do; it’s not the kind of position someone aspires to or takes pride from, and it’s more a privilege and responsibility than an honor, in the secular sense. Jerry was typically self-depreciating and expressed a hope that he would grow into the position. I’m sure he will.
I also spoke briefly with President Lindberg. He was a little nervous and at the same time excited about the whole thing. It’s amazing to me. I’ve watched Steve since he was a small boy and to see the way he’s grown, not just older, but in the grace and strength of Spirit. He is a gentle, wise and really caring person.
I suspected the audience would be larger than normal. We’d been given printed invitations to pass out to friends and neighbors, and I figured that as the word was out we would also get visitors from neighboring stakes, so even though conference didn’t start till 10 AM I went down to reserve a seat for us at 7. There were several members of our ward already there and two investigators who will be getting baptized sometime later this month or next. In the end our ward had at least 4 investigators there, including Kyle’s friend Josh Koulzen (sp?) who we had invited. Bob Keller, the former Santa Clarita Mayor and current city councilman was representing the city and was attending with his wife. I had the chance to talk with him before the meeting and thank him for the support he had given us during the Prop 8 debates and demonstrations. I also spoke briefly with him after the meeting and could see that he had been touched by the messages.
By 9 AM the chapel was full and most of the seats in the cultural hall were taken too. Luckily Cherryl had the day off. She, Adam and mom sat with me just three rows from the front where we had a great view of all speakers. Eventually the crowed spilled over into the Relief Society Room, Scout Room and the Primary Room where closed-circuit television was hooked up. Sherree Poire-Packer and her husband and child sat near the front where an ASL missionary signed the talks for her. I took notes of all the talks. I wish I knew short-hand or some other form of quick, accurate note-taking, but I don’t, so what I write here is essentially expanded notes.
President Lindberg spoke first about families. He referred to “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” I don’t remember if he read directly from it, or if he simply referred to it, but the gist of this part of his message was;
“The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”
He referred to, what the First Presidency has called the “preeminent importance of the family”, and that what we are taught and commit to in the temples is vital to our families. He told us that our homes should be just as sacred and protected from the outside world as the temple is, and that to do this there are four essential family activities that we must do daily:
• Have family prayer
• Hold regular Family Home Evening
• As parents, conduct family gospel study and instruction
• Have regular wholesome family activities
In closing he bore witness of the sacred calling of President Monson as the prophet, seer and revelator of the church, of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and the plan for eternal families.
Sister Wilson, the Stake Relief Society President spoke next. She asked, “What quality defines us best as Latter-day Saints?”
Answering her own question she quoted Matthew 22: 37-40; “Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
She said that for all the good we are doing in the world, the one place for improvement is among those closest to us. That we must learn to love as the Savior does. She gave four things to focus on:
1. Be more considerate and sensitive to the needs of others – encouraging to the youth and those we love.
2. Be complementary to others
3. Be charitable, with our time as well as our means. She explained that sometimes giving our time is more beneficial and meaningful to the recipient than giving money.
4. Be grateful – showing our gratitude not just by what say, but by how we live.
As a summary she read from Alma 7: 23 & 24;
“And now I would that ye should be humble, and be submissive and gentle; easy to be entreated; full of patience and long-suffering; being temperate in all things; being diligent in keeping the commandments of God at all times; asking for whatsoever things ye stand in need, both spiritual and temporal; always returning thanks unto God for whatsoever things ye do receive. And see that ye have faith, hope, and charity, and then ye will always abound in good works.”
She than expressed her gratitude for all the service the sisters in the stake had given in the past years and bore her testimony of the gospel and the truthfulness of the church.
The Stake choir sang a rendition of “Have I Done Any Good in the World Today”
Elder Garns spoke next and expressed gratitude for all the past Stake Presidents who had mentored and taught him: Presidents Stevenson, Larkins and McKeon, and bore testimony of President Lindberg’s calling and capabilities. He expressed his feelings of humility and his desire to learn and fulfill his current calling.
I believe he said he was quoting Elder Bednar who said that when we listen to talks in the church we should not write what is said, rather we should write the things we feel (this while I’m working hard to write down everything as accurately as I could) because it is what the Spirit whispers to our hearts and minds, and it is by the Holy Ghost that we are taught, that while one person hears and learns one thing from what is said, another may get something entirely different, each getting the message that is uniquely tailored to them.
He explained that in order to learn by the spirit two things must happen; we must understand by the Holy Ghost and be edified by what we hear. He quoted Doctrine and Covenants 50:22;
“Wherefore, he that preacheth and he that receiveth, understand one another, and both are edified and rejoice together.”
He then told us of the four Prophetic priorities – the priorities of the First Presidency
1. Strengthen our faith in Christ
2. Strengthen our families
3. Care for and love each other
4. Strengthen priesthood power in the home.
Focusing on the first priority he said we need to develop a greater trust in God and in His willingness to help, no matter how great the need or circumstance, that God can make a way where there is none. We need to learn to obey His commandments and demonstrate that He can trust us to do what He asks of us. He taught that reverence invites revelation; that we need to be still to hear the promptings of the Spirit, and then act courageously to that prompting. He then said we need to learn to be patient and understand when God lets us struggle to grow.
In relation to this, and on a side note, this afternoon I was reading C S Lewis “Paved with Good Intensions” - a sort of summary of the principles explained in “The Screwtape Letter”. For those who have never read the book, the viewpoint here is from a senior devil teaching his nephew, a junior tempte, the best ways to tempt and corrupt a Christian convert. So everything is taken from a negative point of view. Screwtape writes to Wormwood, “Work hard…on the disappointment or anticlimax which is certainly coming to the patient during his first few weeks as a churchman. (By patient he means the recent convert.) The Enemy (meaning God) allows this disappointment to occur on the threshold of every human endeavor. It occurs when the boy who has been enchanted in the nursery by Stories from the Odyssey buckles down to really learning Greek. It occurs when lovers have got married and begin the real task of learning to live together. In every department of life it marks the transition from dreaming aspiration to laborious doing. The Enemy takes this risk because He has a curious fantasy of making all these disgusting little human vermin into what He calls His “free” lovers and servants – “sons” is the word He uses ... Desiring their freedom, He therefore refuses to carry them, by their mere affections and habits, to any of the goals which He sets before them; He leaves them to “do it on their own“. And here lies our opportunity. But also remember, there lies our danger. If once they get through this initial dryness successfully, they become much less dependent on emotion and therefore much harder to tempt.” (Italics mine).
Last of all, Elder Cook spoke.
He started off by relating his experiences when he was in the Philippines, how the people were such hard workers and so faithful in the face of grinding poverty and struggles. He spoke of teaching the principle of gratitude to our children, a love and appreciation for what the Father has provided, and that we show our gratitude by how we serve and live our lives.
He spoke of Christ’s final days before the Atonement and Resurrection. He explained how when Christ suffered in the Garden of Gethsemane, when he bled from every pore, that he was not only suffering for the sins of the world, but also for all the “unfairness” in the world, the suffering of those who did nothing to deserve it, the handicapped, the abused – both children and adults, those suffering from the wrong choices of others who exercised their free agency unrighteously, and how through the Atonement Christ is able to make all things right again.
He stressed our responsibility to share the gospel with others. He taught that we must try to pattern our lives after the Savior, to think about His life and message and example. He remarked how in the last two chapters of John that basically everything the Lord said was for us to go and teach the gospel.
He then bore his special witness of Christ. He said, as near as I accurately wrote it down; “I have had the kind of experiences that allow me to say unequivocally that Jesus is the Christ”
He then said that in his position it is his privilege to leave an Apostolic Blessing on us. He said: These are difficult times; there is a lot of noise in the world, many angry and unsettled people. He promised and blessed us that as we strive to live Christ-like lives, a peace will come into our hearts and we will not get caught up in it (the noise and instability), and that as we demonstrate a willingness to act as Christ did we will know how to reach out to our children and others – what to do to bring them back to the Father.
He blessed us that we would learn that there are things we can do without and to live on less, that we would have “sufficient for our needs” to provide for our families.
He blessed us that we would have warmth and unity in our homes and that our righteous desires would be fulfilled.
The meeting closed with the Hymn “I Believe in Christ”, after which Elder Cook stayed to shake hands and speak with anyone who wished to do so. The line was long as practically everyone wanted to meet him. I waited till the line was almost done and because it was short and there wasn’t any pressure behind me I was able to speak with Elder Garns and President Lindberg a little while longer, and then also with Elder Cook. I told him there were a number of investigators from our ward in the audience and how they had been touched, and also Bob Keller’s comments to me about the meeting.
Now that it’s over it has a kind of dream-like quality to it. There was a subtle and sublime feeling of peace and contentment left behind. I am relying on his blessing, especially since this year is going to be very challenging financially. As in all promised blessings, obtaining those promises always depends on our faith and faithfulness, but I know that Elder Cook really is an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, just as the Apostles in the time of Christ every bit as much as I know my own name. Today was a privilege and a real blessing.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Solvang 2010 - Ten Years After
Solvang 2010
This year was my 18th ride in 19 years. If I hadn’t crashed and broken my collar bone two weeks before the ’93 ride it would have been 19 rides. I wrote the bulk of this 10 years ago. I decided to revisit it and modify it some.
The Town
Every year since 1991 Cherryl and I gone with and several friends and sometimes family to the town of Solvang, California for the annual 100 mile bike ride. The area is located about 40 miles northwest of Santa Barbara, on the banks of the Santa Ynez River between the coastal Santa Ynez range and the San Rafael Mountains, It was originally settled by the Chumash Indians, then the Spanish Missionaries who built the Santa Ynez Mission, located in the town - an interesting place to visit by itself.(2010, Sydney – we really missed you on the ride this year)
About 130 years ago a group of Danish settlers moved in and liked what they saw. The name Solvang means "sunny field" in a Danish dialect. The town was originally a farming community that kept some of its Danish flavor with the half-timbered construction, clean narrow streets, Lutheran churches and lots of bakeries and restaurants where you can get authentic Danish pastries and sausages. Over the years it evolved into a tourist stop, but has managed to keep a lot of its charm in spite of rampant commercialism.
The area is generally wealthy, especially the neighboring town of Santa Ynez. President Reagan had his ranch on the top of the coastal range that looked down on the valley and there are many Hollywood types, and business moguls who have getaway homes and ranches there including Michael Jackson’s "Never Land" till he lost it.
The area between the mountains is mostly rolling hills with vineyards, cattle and bison ranches, an Ostrich/Emu ranch or two and a lot of horse owners. Nearer to the river are old riverbed plateaus and bottomland that have rich fertile soil and it is used extensively for agriculture and grazing. In the spring everything is green and beautiful. This year (2010) was no different. We had almost a month of rain before the ride. The uncut grass was at least two feet high and in some of the meadows and fields it was so green it almost looked black. If the first explorers came here in the spring they must have thought they found heaven on earth.
It sooo green!!
The Route
The ride starts at the Royal Scandinavian Hotel on the east side of town, - this year, 2010 it started at the golf course down the street from the hotel. The Chumash indians bought the hotel last year and raised the fee to SCORE, the sponser - winds west through the back streets, then out to highway 246, a couple of miles to Buellton and the 101. From there we get out into the real country and follow the old Santa Ynez River Road for about 20 miles into town of Lompoc. Until 9/11 we used ride the back streets through town till we got to Ocean Ave. and followed it towards the coast for about 10 miles to the 13th Street gate of Vandenberg Air Force Base. We’d pass the guards showing our little armbands that separate the real riders from the “bandits” – riders trying to take advantage of the ride without paying the fee - and up the hill to the top of the Vandenberg plateau. It was about 20 miles across the base and the Vandenberg Grade, the Casmalia hills, then we’d drop down into the Santa Maria valley, out to the Airport and the Hilton Hotel SAG stop. Now we have to go to the east of the base, We pass through the military family housing, but no more through the secured areas. From Santa Maria we head south to Orcutt, then away from the town up into the Sisquoc and Foxen Canyon farmlands and vineyards. This is the mentally longest part of the trip, all uphill and a rough road. Eventually we reach the top of the ride at about 1,560 feet (we were almost at sea level in Santa Maria 30 miles back) and it's mostly downhill for the last 10 miles back into Solvang.
Every year I wonder how I'll do or if I'll even make it. I usually spend the last 2 1/2 months training for it, riding farther and harder each week, out Highway 126 to Ventura, up San Fransisquito Canyon and out to Palmdale. The real question is will I do it faster or slower than last year, or will I have an accident. This year – 2010 - was even more stressfull. It rained every Saturday for a month before the ride. I was never able to get the training rides I needed. Syd’s training schedule was so fouled up she decided to drop out.
THE RIDE
Bob (the husband of Syd's high school friend Chris), me, Syd and Bill - 2008. We missed Syd this year. We didn't see Bob, though we knew he was here. We did run into him and Chris at AJ Spurs when we went to dinner. Bob's a monster rider. Only Bill can stay with him.
(This is from 2000. I’ll note where I update for 2010) I usually leave the motel about 6:50 AM. I want to go to the official start point and reset my odometer and timer to get an accurate time and distance. It's 6:57 AM and I'm off. It’s cold, but I like it. My thermometer says its 40 degrees, but I know my readout is about 4 - 5 degrees high, so it's really around 36 degrees. A lot of the riders have outer pants and jackets on over their regular riding outfits. I try to avoid that. What are they going to do with all that stuff when it gets warm? I love the cool and I only wear thin knit gloves under my regular ones and the removable long sleeves that I can stick in my pockets.
It's a low-key excitement to be starting out. It feels good to have the cool breeze blowing past my ears and the vibration of the road under my wheels. I wind through the residential streets and out to Mission Road, turn left and we're officially on our way. We drop down a short steep hill and already some people seem to think it's a race. The road is busy with cars even this early and the bike lane is only big enough for single file, but they have got to pass every one and put us all in jeopardy.
It's foggy. I can only see about 1/4 mile down the road. Trees on both side of the road come out of the fog and fly past me. I can see large green pastures of the horse ranches on both sides of the road, but not the houses. The horses stand singly or in groups of two or three, shadowy, in soft focus, heads down, nibbling on the grass or half asleep. It's one of those mental pictures I want to keep.
I get into Buellton about 7:10. It's a small town whose biggest claim to fame used to be the Anderson's Pea Soup Restaurant. I'm supposed to meet Bill Reynolds at the Mobile gas station. I'm late and I don't see him. I find out later that we had a mix-up and he's in his room waiting for me to call and let him know I'm coming. I think he's gone ahead because I'm late, so I don't wait. It's just as well. Bill is an avid rider. He turns 51 this year, but he has the physic of a twenty year old and the stamina of a cross-country runner. We only stay together for a mile or two anyway and at the first hill I don't see him anymore. I’m through Buellton in the blink of an eye, turn left and head down to the bridge, cross the river and turn right onto the river road.
This year – 2010 – Bill and Lyn n are in the same motel so we meet up before leaving. Bill turns 61 this year, and nothing has changed with him physically. He still looks 15 years younger and has the same build. But he has been sick a lot this year with the flu going around and a head cold he hasn’t been able to shake. He’s sick today too, but he doesn’t let it stop him.
The river road is one of the most beautiful parts of the ride. The hills rise steeply on my left and the river plain stretches out on the right. It has rained almost every day for the last three or four weeks and the wild grasses and mugwort are trying to get to full growth before the wet weather stops. It's so green it hurts to look at and I think this must be what Ireland looks like. Ancient oaks cover the hills and many are covered with Spanish. The fields are either freshly plowed or have an early growth of what appear to be asparagus, cabbage, brussel sprouts and lettuce; the cold weather crops. Farther down the road we get into the orchards. Some of them are very old and the trees are so large that as I ride along and look into the rows it's like looking down long dark tunnels. Sometimes I become mesmerized by the patterns of the precisely planted rows that revolve and change as I pass. Usually a pothole brings me back to reality.
The road begins to narrow after a time and the centerline disappears. The fog is thicker and my glasses start to mist up making it hard to see details on the road. The riders are starting to spread out across the road, riding three and four abreast. The road may be a country road, but it's still in use. Field hand's cars come up from behind and can't pass because they can't see far enough ahead. Calls of "Car back!" or "Car up!" come out of the mist and most riders pull to the right to let them by.
The first real hill comes into view and we all start to gear down for the ascent; all of us except the velo club riders. You can hear them coming from behind, a short of whirring sound that gets louder and louder till they fly by. They whiz past like a bullet train crowding me toward the shoulder, but I hold my line. They're bent over their handlebars, thin as paperclips, no stomachs, calve muscles so ripped that they look like an illustration from Grey's Anatomy. And that's the girls!!!
As I get to the top of the last major hill on the river road I look back down to the valley and I've climbed above the fog bank. It lies in the hollow like a thick gray blanket, the valley rising up on either side. The sun is starting to shine through the upper clouds and illuminates the grassy hills and trees for the first time today. It's a Kodak moment. Two more small hills and then the ascent to Highway 1 and we drop down into Lompoc.
Lompoc's mainly an agri-town that got extended life from the state penitentiary and the air force base. It's a nice place, but it's a long ways to anywhere else. They don't want us getting run over by the locals, so they put us off onto the side streets and the local police bold traffic for us at the intersections. Most of us make sure to say thanks to the cops because the poor guys are going to be out there pretty much all day just for us. I turn onto Ocean Avenue and head toward the coast. I'm in a large river plain with plowed, unplanted fields, very wide. About 2 miles I think. The fog has closed in somewhat and this becomes a featureless ride for the next 8 miles. Later the wind will pick up from the ocean and blow it all away.
Three years ago -1997- we had the bright idea of starting the ride in Santa Maria. Good idea we thought. We'll get the worst of the hills out of the way while we're still fresh, then the rest should be a piece of cake! No one told us about the afternoon winds. That year it was worse than usual. Just before Lompoc I felt the wind startup, straight into my face. I still had about 35 miles to go and was getting a little tired. When I dropped down out of the hills and into town the wind really picked up. Out on Ocean Avenue it was so bad I could never get faster than 11 mph, and that was when I was drafting some poor guy. Most of the time I was hunched down over the drops, out of the saddle in low gear, cranking for all I was worth and doing about 8 mph. For the first time ever I was seriously thinking about going back into Lompoc, calling Cherryl and telling her to come get me. At the Vandenberg Gate the road takes a right angle turn to go up onto the plateau. Good, I thought. At least now the wind will be blowing from the side, but by some freak twist of the terrain, the wind was right in my face again. It was the point of no return. If I went through the gate couldn't get onto the base to pick me up. My ego and pride overruled my common sense and I went through. Not a good choice. No matter which way the road turned, the wind was in my face, all the way across the base, into the canyons, downhill, uphill, every which way. It never got behind me till I was almost to the airport. That year it took me 7-3/4 hours to do the ride and I slept like the dead that night.
In 2010 the wind started about the same place and was in our faces from about mile 19 to mile 56 at the turn to the airport. In 2008 it turned on us and was in our faces all the way from Lompoc and back into Solvang. I can truly say that was the worst wind ride ever. I was so blown out that by the time I got to the climb at the top of Foxen Canyon I actually got off the bike and walked to the top. This year, because I hadn’t been able to do the training rides I was very careful to use all the SAG stops and conserve my strength, so I was able to do all the hills without cramping.
This year – 2000 - I'm ahead of the wind and the fog begins to lift as I near the gate. I flash my armband to the guard and he waves me through, then I begin the ascent to the top of the plateau. This is usually a pleasant part of the ride. At the top and through most of the base there are eucalyptus groves all around us. The ground doesn’t seem to drain well even on the plateau, so this time of the year it's a little swampy in some areas. Cattails and ferns, many of the types of plants associated with wetlands thrive here during the rainy season. Ponds, streams and creeks line the road in the lower places. There are several species of duck, snowy egrets and other waterfowl. The temperature has risen to about 70 degrees and the shade of the trees feels good.
There's a light breeze starting and the fog is gone. From the top of the plateau I can see out to the ocean and I can see Point Sal State Beach. If the coastline didn't stick out so far I'm sure I could see all the way to Pismo. The road drops off the plateau and I get my first zippy-wee downhill ride, then it's up the long canyons. There are several such drops and ascents on the base and after the first time I learned to conserve my energy for the last long climb over the Casmalia Hills. I crank past the second SAG stop, still too proud to stop. Who's tired? Not Me. I rocket down the 1/2 mile to the bottom of the canyon, and then start that last ascent. It's a 2-mile climb at a 7% grade. I do pretty well, passing a fair number of riders. Then a girl passes me! Then a peloton zips by. I’m humbled, again.
Finally I reach the top of the "Vandenberg Grade" and get a real downhill ride. This is where I'm lucky. At just over 200 pounds I can still get into a tuck and go aerodynamic. With all that weight I can really get the speed. I even pass that girl! The bullet train is more aerodynamic than I am though, so I let it go.
I can hit about 45 to 50 mph on this hill, especially if the wind is behind me. I love the speed. I try not to think about what the road can do to bare skin at 50 mph if I go down. You have to suppress those thoughts or it can freak you out. One year at this same spot I had just reached the bottom of the hill and was slowing down. There were two riders about 25 yards ahead of me and we were doing between 25 and 30, when for no apparent reason one of the guys just went down hard. He got separated from his bike and glasses, all of which were going in the same general direction and slowing fast. I couldn't stop in time so I gritted my teeth and tried to maneuver through the wreck. Somehow I managed to miss all three obstacles and get by without dumping myself. No skill, just providential interference.
Since 9/11 we have left Lompoc and ridden up Highway 1 and out to Orcutt, turning left at West Rice Ranch, through old town Orcutt, West on Clark to Highway 1 and right at Black Rd, which gets us generally back to the old route.
The rest of the ride into Santa Maria is through some of the earthier parts of the agri side of town. No pun intended. Landfill, tractor repair, liqueur stores, rough road; I go into autopilot and don't pay any more attention to the ride than I need to. I pass a guy stopped on the side of the road who's got one of those folding tuck-in-the-trunk bikes that BMW used to sell or give away to the proud owner of a new 325i. I've seen some strange things on this ride before, but this is a top candidate for the worst type of bike to use. He's got maybe 24" diameter wheels and is about 15 inches closer to the ground than I am. He's still got a little less than 50 miles to go. He's got a bib number so he's part of the ride and I wonder if he'll make it. His gear ratios don't look too promising and I think he's cranked himself out. He says he's alright so I ride on.
I feel a little sorry, and a great deal of respect for the people on the mountain bikes. They're great for downhill and cranking up a dirt road, but there's a reason that road bikes were invented. Their bikes are so much heavier and with so much more road resistance from the tires that they use a lot of energy just spinning down the road. 100 miles on one of them is more like 150 on my Cannondale.
The recumbent and tandem bikes are another story.
The visual or apparent balance of a recumbent kind of unnerves me. They look very unstable, but I've never seen one crash. Maybe because it's easy to plant both feet on the ground if you start to lose it. The seats have got to be the most comfortable; like sitting in a lawn chair. They are heavier than a road bike so they aren't quite as fast uphill, but they are much more aerodynamic and literally scream going down, if the rider has the nerve. I'd guess there's not much saddle pain after the ride either. That alone has got to be a big advantage.
I play leapfrog with the tandems. Unless the stoker is strong I can pass them on the uphill, but with the weight of two riders they can often get more downhill speed than I can. I get a smile out of the father/child tandems. It's got to be a great bonding exercise. Either that or they will hate each other for the rest of their lives. This year while going up a canyon I'm overtaking a father/son tandem and I can hear the squeak squeak of a rubber ducky kind of toy. As I pass them I see they have stuck a toy dinosaur, Barney or something, on the stoker's handlebars. As dad shifted back in the saddle to get more push into his rank, with each revolution his butt pushes against the toy making it squeak and the kid is cracking up.
(2010. I have seen some remarkable things on this ride, but this year between Lompoc and stop # 2 Bill pointed out a tandem with a set of crutches strapped on the back. When I was leaving stop #2 I saw them come in and saw that the lady acting as the stoker was an amputee. She was missing her left leg about 10” below the hip. At this point of the ride I knew they were doing the full 100 miles. That’s determination and grit.)
Here's where I saw the amputee
I roll into the third SAG stop at the airport and refill my water bottles, stuff a PB and J sandwich in my mouth, eat a banana for the potassium, hit the outhouse and go. Elapsed time is a little less than 10 minutes. 58 miles behind me and 44 to go, all uphill for the next 30. I feel pretty good and don't want to lose time standing around when I can be riding. I probably should pick up another banana, some Fig Newtons and oatmeal cookies to take along, but I've still got a couple of jell packs and power bars, so I don't hang around.
This stop is usually pretty crowded. I see a lady TV reporter from a local station interviewing one of the ride officiators. She asks him how many riders are on the course today and I hear him say a little over three thousand. That's why it so quiet. In the past there have been as many as seven thousand riders. The airport was one of the starting points for several years, but not this year. A few times the ride was so big they had a third starting point in Lompoc. I don't know why it's so low this year. Maybe the rain scared some off.
I roll out to the street, cross the intersection and hang right down the frontage road along highway 135 for a few miles. The guy ahead of me is wearing tube socks, which give him away as a novice rider. I pull up alongside and we start to talk. It’s his first time on this ride.
"Well, the best part of the ride is coming up." I tell him. "Now we get into the hills."
"You mean those weren't hills back there?"
"Oh they were OK, but the good ones are a few miles ahead. The top of Foxen Canyon and ‘The Wall’ ". (You always say "The Wall" in quotes. It sounds ominous.)
He's heard something about "The Wall" and thinks he saw something on the map last night. I'm getting a kick playing with his head.
"Yeah, the top of Foxen Canyon is actually steeper, but you can't see it except for short stretches because it turns a lot, but "The Wall" is psychologically more intimidating because you can see the whole thing from the bottom and you've already gone 87miles with the last 30 all uphill. But don't worry," I say. "Just drop into low gear, stand up and keep pumping. You'll make it." I’m so patronizing. Truth is, I hate the top of the canyon and "The Wall". It's the only real challenge for me on the whole ride, and believe me it's enough.
A couple of miles and we turn east on Clark avenue and start the long uphill grind for the next couple of hours. Uphill, across highway 101, up another hill, then out on the flat for a couple miles. We're out of the low areas and into cattle and oil country now. There's a slight prevailing smell of sulfur from the oil wells rising in the heat.
I can see the front of the San Rafael Mountains. There's snow on the upper peaks and everything is so green. California is technically desert and the green season is short even on the coast. I love it all the more because it's so uncommon. My thermometer says 87 degrees but a light breeze is blowing and it feels cool and soothing. Now down a short drop, right on Dominion and up another long climb for about 3 1/2 miles at a 3% grade. Not bad if it's not too hot. It's a camel hump with two climbs and two drops till I end up at the same altitude before I get to Sisquoc. The last drop can be a killer. You can get going faster than you think and when you get to the turn at Palmer road you're turning left into a right hand banked curve, and the road is banked the wrong way for you. To make matters worse there's loose gravel on the road. There are warning signs all down the bill to the curve but more than one rider has eaten it on this turn.
Once again I blow past the SAG stop just before Sisquoc but I'm starting to think I should have stopped. I'm not really low on liquids but I think maybe I should be rehydrating more often than I have. I probably should have finished a 24-oz. bottle since Santa Maria and refilled before "The Wall". But it’s too late for that and I just keep going. I suck on a couple of jell packs, eat a power bar, take a few swigs of juice and hope it kicks in when I need it. I'll be sucking on these bottles for the next 15 miles or so. A little farther, turn right at Sisquoc and I'm now officially going up Foxen Canyon.
The road runs straight for about a mile, then jogs right and hugs the south side of the canyon in the shade of the trees. About 8 years ago at this spot I saw a rider about 300 yards ahead of me with a sign fastened to his back He wasn't going very fast so I caught up with him in a short time. The sign read, "Please be patient with me. I'm going as fast as I can for 83 years old" That just blew me away. He'd already gone some 75 miles and was still going steady. I hope he made it and I think about him every year when I start to feel sorry for myself. (This year I had the strangest thought as I was riding through here. As healthy as that guy was – he has to be dead now. He’d be over 100 years old today. I wonder how many more years I have.)
The next year as I was riding across the Vandenberg plateau I saw similar rider. He was gray haired and mustached, lean and angular, lined face, kind of weather beaten with that old cowboy look. By now I'd gotten into the habit of talking with fellow riders so I pulled alongside and started to chat. To my complete surprise I found out he was a couple of years younger than me! At first I thought he was telling a tall tale, but as we talked I saw that he was the real thing. It turned out he had been a heavy drug user and drinker and it had just about killed him. He was off the juice and dope now and biking was one of the ways he was trying to regain his health. I think about him at every ride too and thank God for my own amazingly good health.
We’re in wine country now. The breeze is gone but the air is a little cooler, coming off the mountain. It's about 11:30 and the day hasn't heated up in the canyon yet. The workers are out in the fields pruning back the vines. There is vineyard after vineyard here and most of them have been here for over 100 years. The trees feel ancient. I pass an old adobe farmhouse that burned down many years ago. The roof is long gone as are the window headers. The columns and walls of sun-baked adobe are weathered and crumbly and stick up like the pillars of a Greek temple, and grass is growing thickly out of the tops.
I wish I knew more about this area and its history. I do know that it was settled by a man named Foxen and explored by John C. Fremont, the man of whom Lincoln said he would not have such a general surveyor who became the owner of all he surveyed. The Chumash had a large population living here and There are still a tribe of Churnash living in the area and they run the Chumash Casino in Santa Ynez.
This is the deadly part of the ride. For the next 10 or so miles it's nothing but climbing. Sometimes steeply, sometimes not so steep, but always up and up. Usually when I climb I recite things or sing songs in my head to take my mind off the job. It works, but I've noticed that when the climb is really tedious the weirdest things come into my mind, like Gordon Lightfoot singing Canadian Railroad Trilogy. Canadian Railroad Trilogy??
Part of the 30-mile climb
The road is a farm road in every sense of the word. It's poorly paved, rutted and in place. Someone ran a caterpillar tractor along it so it has the texture of a washboard. Most of the ruts take on a stealth quality in the sunlight. They're not sharply defined and there are no shadows. You really can't see them until you hit them. I'm already tired and the jolts are sapping what energy I have left. It's bad enough that my shoulders are starting to ache and my rear is getting sore from the saddle but now the vibration from the road is starting to work its way from my legs and lower back to my upper spine and finally my brain. Mile after interminable mile. I don't look around much anymore and my attention closes down to the 6 or 8 feet directly in front of my bike. The rattling becomes the only sensation. My brain even begins to shut down and finally only the medulla oblongata keeps me going. Some of my family would say that's the only functioning part of my brain anyway, so maybe I'm not so far gone.
The bottom of the climb out of Foxen Canyon
Suddenly the road turns right and rises into the trees. I'm near the top of the canyon and the toughest climb of the ride. It's 6/10s of a mile to the top and we rise a little more than 250 feet; about an 8% grade. Now I pay the price for not drinking enough early in the ride. My thighs start to cramp. With each turn of the crank I get a charly horse right above the knees. I try standing but for some reason it makes my legs spasm worse, so I sit back down and work on the pull more than the push of the crank. The road rises through the trees to a turn then rises more through more trees to another turn waaay up there. I think about the rider whose head I played with and I have a feeling this is Karma payback time. Then I turn another bend and I'm at the top. The road slowly starts to level out and I can shift up till I'm in my top gear at last and flying down the other side.
(2010) I’ve learned my lesson since then. I refuel at all the SAG stops, usually drink about 80 oz of Gatorade by this time and rarely have cramps anymore. But it’s still a very tiring climb)
Oh blessed relief! It's a steep drop and I can sit back a little and relax. The road drops quickly to the backside of the hill into another canyon. I'm getting back into wine country and there are some nicely tended vineyards in the lower part of the canyon. Fess Parker, the original Daniel Boone of Walt Disney fame built a vineyard and Visitor's Center here. The first year I rode was before the center was built and he let them put in a SAG stop on the lot. It's a beautiful building and if I was a wine drinker I'd go there just to say I'd been.
For about 2 1/2 miles I get all the rest I can because I'm coming up to "The Wall". The Firestone Vineyard at the base of "The Wall" is the last SAG stop. (This year it was Fess Parkers’s place again) Again I don't stop, but for a whole other reason. One year I stopped there and my legs stiffened up so badly that I hardly made it up "The Wall". I can tell by the way they worked at the canyon top that if I stop it will happen again so I decide to tough it out and climb.
"The Wall" is also about 6/10 mile climb and about 250 feet up, but like I said before, you can see it from start to finish. And besides, when you stand something up that's 250 feet tall it looks a heck of a lot higher than it sounds. Consider that the average Freeway Bridge has a 15-foot clearance for trucks, then stack 16 of those one on top of the other and you have 250 feet. We've already gone 87 miles and the last two hours have been that lovely farm road from Hell. My legs ache and there doesn't seem to be anything left in them. I shift down to the lowest gear and settle in for the climb. The cramping comes back with a vengeance. My mother’s voice comes to me with a vengeance. "You push yourself too hard dear. I worry about you, you're so competitive with yourself” Dang! I think she's right this time. I do make it though. Some kind soul has painted a message on the road, "Last Hill", and farther up, "You're almost there!" I glance to my right and see the valley floor laid out below me and it's a wonderful sight. The road begins to flatten out. I shift up gear after gear. I'm over and it's 14 miles downhill to Solvang. Almost downhill.
It's 2+ miles down to Highway 154 and then a hard right on Ballard Canyon Road for the really truly last hill. It's not a tall hill or even that steep, but it's like the final parting shot from the ride. I wind up and up, back and forth through the hairpin turns and I'm over. I don't even cramp on this one. Down sharply on the other side, through another hairpin turn and it's a straight shot to town. As I go through this last turn I slow down a lot and study the road ahead. The ride wasn't always popular with the locals and one year, the story goes, someone scattered tacks on the road at this turn to blow out tires. I tend to think this was just an urban legend.
From the top of "The Wall" to the town we drop about 700 feet. There's not much need to pedal and it's a good thing because fatigue has caught up with me. If there's no headwind I average about 30 mph for the rest of the road until I get into town.
Ghosts of the past come to me again. The year I started in Santa Maria I was fresh and riding like a bat out of Hell down this road. I stopped at the Solvang SAG stop to get some snacks and as I started out the driveway, not even completely on my bike yet, my front tire popped. When we got it off the rim we found that the rubber spoke guard had deteriorated and fallen apart and a spoke had punctured the tube. There was basically no guard left. I could see the imprints of all the spokes on my tube. All I could think of was that the tire could have blown at any time on the downhill run, but it went out at the least possible dangerous time. I could only write it off to Providence again, there was no other explanation.
March 15, 2000
2010
Although we missed Syd this year we had the added surprise of having GK, Susanna and Van (and the twins, sort of) meet us in Solvang.
This year was my 18th ride in 19 years. If I hadn’t crashed and broken my collar bone two weeks before the ’93 ride it would have been 19 rides. I wrote the bulk of this 10 years ago. I decided to revisit it and modify it some.
The Town
Every year since 1991 Cherryl and I gone with and several friends and sometimes family to the town of Solvang, California for the annual 100 mile bike ride. The area is located about 40 miles northwest of Santa Barbara, on the banks of the Santa Ynez River between the coastal Santa Ynez range and the San Rafael Mountains, It was originally settled by the Chumash Indians, then the Spanish Missionaries who built the Santa Ynez Mission, located in the town - an interesting place to visit by itself.(2010, Sydney – we really missed you on the ride this year)
About 130 years ago a group of Danish settlers moved in and liked what they saw. The name Solvang means "sunny field" in a Danish dialect. The town was originally a farming community that kept some of its Danish flavor with the half-timbered construction, clean narrow streets, Lutheran churches and lots of bakeries and restaurants where you can get authentic Danish pastries and sausages. Over the years it evolved into a tourist stop, but has managed to keep a lot of its charm in spite of rampant commercialism.
The area is generally wealthy, especially the neighboring town of Santa Ynez. President Reagan had his ranch on the top of the coastal range that looked down on the valley and there are many Hollywood types, and business moguls who have getaway homes and ranches there including Michael Jackson’s "Never Land" till he lost it.
The area between the mountains is mostly rolling hills with vineyards, cattle and bison ranches, an Ostrich/Emu ranch or two and a lot of horse owners. Nearer to the river are old riverbed plateaus and bottomland that have rich fertile soil and it is used extensively for agriculture and grazing. In the spring everything is green and beautiful. This year (2010) was no different. We had almost a month of rain before the ride. The uncut grass was at least two feet high and in some of the meadows and fields it was so green it almost looked black. If the first explorers came here in the spring they must have thought they found heaven on earth.
It sooo green!!The Route
The ride starts at the Royal Scandinavian Hotel on the east side of town, - this year, 2010 it started at the golf course down the street from the hotel. The Chumash indians bought the hotel last year and raised the fee to SCORE, the sponser - winds west through the back streets, then out to highway 246, a couple of miles to Buellton and the 101. From there we get out into the real country and follow the old Santa Ynez River Road for about 20 miles into town of Lompoc. Until 9/11 we used ride the back streets through town till we got to Ocean Ave. and followed it towards the coast for about 10 miles to the 13th Street gate of Vandenberg Air Force Base. We’d pass the guards showing our little armbands that separate the real riders from the “bandits” – riders trying to take advantage of the ride without paying the fee - and up the hill to the top of the Vandenberg plateau. It was about 20 miles across the base and the Vandenberg Grade, the Casmalia hills, then we’d drop down into the Santa Maria valley, out to the Airport and the Hilton Hotel SAG stop. Now we have to go to the east of the base, We pass through the military family housing, but no more through the secured areas. From Santa Maria we head south to Orcutt, then away from the town up into the Sisquoc and Foxen Canyon farmlands and vineyards. This is the mentally longest part of the trip, all uphill and a rough road. Eventually we reach the top of the ride at about 1,560 feet (we were almost at sea level in Santa Maria 30 miles back) and it's mostly downhill for the last 10 miles back into Solvang.
Every year I wonder how I'll do or if I'll even make it. I usually spend the last 2 1/2 months training for it, riding farther and harder each week, out Highway 126 to Ventura, up San Fransisquito Canyon and out to Palmdale. The real question is will I do it faster or slower than last year, or will I have an accident. This year – 2010 - was even more stressfull. It rained every Saturday for a month before the ride. I was never able to get the training rides I needed. Syd’s training schedule was so fouled up she decided to drop out.
THE RIDE
Bob (the husband of Syd's high school friend Chris), me, Syd and Bill - 2008. We missed Syd this year. We didn't see Bob, though we knew he was here. We did run into him and Chris at AJ Spurs when we went to dinner. Bob's a monster rider. Only Bill can stay with him.(This is from 2000. I’ll note where I update for 2010) I usually leave the motel about 6:50 AM. I want to go to the official start point and reset my odometer and timer to get an accurate time and distance. It's 6:57 AM and I'm off. It’s cold, but I like it. My thermometer says its 40 degrees, but I know my readout is about 4 - 5 degrees high, so it's really around 36 degrees. A lot of the riders have outer pants and jackets on over their regular riding outfits. I try to avoid that. What are they going to do with all that stuff when it gets warm? I love the cool and I only wear thin knit gloves under my regular ones and the removable long sleeves that I can stick in my pockets.
It's a low-key excitement to be starting out. It feels good to have the cool breeze blowing past my ears and the vibration of the road under my wheels. I wind through the residential streets and out to Mission Road, turn left and we're officially on our way. We drop down a short steep hill and already some people seem to think it's a race. The road is busy with cars even this early and the bike lane is only big enough for single file, but they have got to pass every one and put us all in jeopardy.
It's foggy. I can only see about 1/4 mile down the road. Trees on both side of the road come out of the fog and fly past me. I can see large green pastures of the horse ranches on both sides of the road, but not the houses. The horses stand singly or in groups of two or three, shadowy, in soft focus, heads down, nibbling on the grass or half asleep. It's one of those mental pictures I want to keep.
I get into Buellton about 7:10. It's a small town whose biggest claim to fame used to be the Anderson's Pea Soup Restaurant. I'm supposed to meet Bill Reynolds at the Mobile gas station. I'm late and I don't see him. I find out later that we had a mix-up and he's in his room waiting for me to call and let him know I'm coming. I think he's gone ahead because I'm late, so I don't wait. It's just as well. Bill is an avid rider. He turns 51 this year, but he has the physic of a twenty year old and the stamina of a cross-country runner. We only stay together for a mile or two anyway and at the first hill I don't see him anymore. I’m through Buellton in the blink of an eye, turn left and head down to the bridge, cross the river and turn right onto the river road.
This year – 2010 – Bill and Lyn n are in the same motel so we meet up before leaving. Bill turns 61 this year, and nothing has changed with him physically. He still looks 15 years younger and has the same build. But he has been sick a lot this year with the flu going around and a head cold he hasn’t been able to shake. He’s sick today too, but he doesn’t let it stop him.
The river road is one of the most beautiful parts of the ride. The hills rise steeply on my left and the river plain stretches out on the right. It has rained almost every day for the last three or four weeks and the wild grasses and mugwort are trying to get to full growth before the wet weather stops. It's so green it hurts to look at and I think this must be what Ireland looks like. Ancient oaks cover the hills and many are covered with Spanish. The fields are either freshly plowed or have an early growth of what appear to be asparagus, cabbage, brussel sprouts and lettuce; the cold weather crops. Farther down the road we get into the orchards. Some of them are very old and the trees are so large that as I ride along and look into the rows it's like looking down long dark tunnels. Sometimes I become mesmerized by the patterns of the precisely planted rows that revolve and change as I pass. Usually a pothole brings me back to reality.
The road begins to narrow after a time and the centerline disappears. The fog is thicker and my glasses start to mist up making it hard to see details on the road. The riders are starting to spread out across the road, riding three and four abreast. The road may be a country road, but it's still in use. Field hand's cars come up from behind and can't pass because they can't see far enough ahead. Calls of "Car back!" or "Car up!" come out of the mist and most riders pull to the right to let them by.
The first real hill comes into view and we all start to gear down for the ascent; all of us except the velo club riders. You can hear them coming from behind, a short of whirring sound that gets louder and louder till they fly by. They whiz past like a bullet train crowding me toward the shoulder, but I hold my line. They're bent over their handlebars, thin as paperclips, no stomachs, calve muscles so ripped that they look like an illustration from Grey's Anatomy. And that's the girls!!!
As I get to the top of the last major hill on the river road I look back down to the valley and I've climbed above the fog bank. It lies in the hollow like a thick gray blanket, the valley rising up on either side. The sun is starting to shine through the upper clouds and illuminates the grassy hills and trees for the first time today. It's a Kodak moment. Two more small hills and then the ascent to Highway 1 and we drop down into Lompoc.
Lompoc's mainly an agri-town that got extended life from the state penitentiary and the air force base. It's a nice place, but it's a long ways to anywhere else. They don't want us getting run over by the locals, so they put us off onto the side streets and the local police bold traffic for us at the intersections. Most of us make sure to say thanks to the cops because the poor guys are going to be out there pretty much all day just for us. I turn onto Ocean Avenue and head toward the coast. I'm in a large river plain with plowed, unplanted fields, very wide. About 2 miles I think. The fog has closed in somewhat and this becomes a featureless ride for the next 8 miles. Later the wind will pick up from the ocean and blow it all away.
Three years ago -1997- we had the bright idea of starting the ride in Santa Maria. Good idea we thought. We'll get the worst of the hills out of the way while we're still fresh, then the rest should be a piece of cake! No one told us about the afternoon winds. That year it was worse than usual. Just before Lompoc I felt the wind startup, straight into my face. I still had about 35 miles to go and was getting a little tired. When I dropped down out of the hills and into town the wind really picked up. Out on Ocean Avenue it was so bad I could never get faster than 11 mph, and that was when I was drafting some poor guy. Most of the time I was hunched down over the drops, out of the saddle in low gear, cranking for all I was worth and doing about 8 mph. For the first time ever I was seriously thinking about going back into Lompoc, calling Cherryl and telling her to come get me. At the Vandenberg Gate the road takes a right angle turn to go up onto the plateau. Good, I thought. At least now the wind will be blowing from the side, but by some freak twist of the terrain, the wind was right in my face again. It was the point of no return. If I went through the gate couldn't get onto the base to pick me up. My ego and pride overruled my common sense and I went through. Not a good choice. No matter which way the road turned, the wind was in my face, all the way across the base, into the canyons, downhill, uphill, every which way. It never got behind me till I was almost to the airport. That year it took me 7-3/4 hours to do the ride and I slept like the dead that night.
In 2010 the wind started about the same place and was in our faces from about mile 19 to mile 56 at the turn to the airport. In 2008 it turned on us and was in our faces all the way from Lompoc and back into Solvang. I can truly say that was the worst wind ride ever. I was so blown out that by the time I got to the climb at the top of Foxen Canyon I actually got off the bike and walked to the top. This year, because I hadn’t been able to do the training rides I was very careful to use all the SAG stops and conserve my strength, so I was able to do all the hills without cramping.
This year – 2000 - I'm ahead of the wind and the fog begins to lift as I near the gate. I flash my armband to the guard and he waves me through, then I begin the ascent to the top of the plateau. This is usually a pleasant part of the ride. At the top and through most of the base there are eucalyptus groves all around us. The ground doesn’t seem to drain well even on the plateau, so this time of the year it's a little swampy in some areas. Cattails and ferns, many of the types of plants associated with wetlands thrive here during the rainy season. Ponds, streams and creeks line the road in the lower places. There are several species of duck, snowy egrets and other waterfowl. The temperature has risen to about 70 degrees and the shade of the trees feels good.
There's a light breeze starting and the fog is gone. From the top of the plateau I can see out to the ocean and I can see Point Sal State Beach. If the coastline didn't stick out so far I'm sure I could see all the way to Pismo. The road drops off the plateau and I get my first zippy-wee downhill ride, then it's up the long canyons. There are several such drops and ascents on the base and after the first time I learned to conserve my energy for the last long climb over the Casmalia Hills. I crank past the second SAG stop, still too proud to stop. Who's tired? Not Me. I rocket down the 1/2 mile to the bottom of the canyon, and then start that last ascent. It's a 2-mile climb at a 7% grade. I do pretty well, passing a fair number of riders. Then a girl passes me! Then a peloton zips by. I’m humbled, again.
Finally I reach the top of the "Vandenberg Grade" and get a real downhill ride. This is where I'm lucky. At just over 200 pounds I can still get into a tuck and go aerodynamic. With all that weight I can really get the speed. I even pass that girl! The bullet train is more aerodynamic than I am though, so I let it go.
I can hit about 45 to 50 mph on this hill, especially if the wind is behind me. I love the speed. I try not to think about what the road can do to bare skin at 50 mph if I go down. You have to suppress those thoughts or it can freak you out. One year at this same spot I had just reached the bottom of the hill and was slowing down. There were two riders about 25 yards ahead of me and we were doing between 25 and 30, when for no apparent reason one of the guys just went down hard. He got separated from his bike and glasses, all of which were going in the same general direction and slowing fast. I couldn't stop in time so I gritted my teeth and tried to maneuver through the wreck. Somehow I managed to miss all three obstacles and get by without dumping myself. No skill, just providential interference.
Since 9/11 we have left Lompoc and ridden up Highway 1 and out to Orcutt, turning left at West Rice Ranch, through old town Orcutt, West on Clark to Highway 1 and right at Black Rd, which gets us generally back to the old route.
The rest of the ride into Santa Maria is through some of the earthier parts of the agri side of town. No pun intended. Landfill, tractor repair, liqueur stores, rough road; I go into autopilot and don't pay any more attention to the ride than I need to. I pass a guy stopped on the side of the road who's got one of those folding tuck-in-the-trunk bikes that BMW used to sell or give away to the proud owner of a new 325i. I've seen some strange things on this ride before, but this is a top candidate for the worst type of bike to use. He's got maybe 24" diameter wheels and is about 15 inches closer to the ground than I am. He's still got a little less than 50 miles to go. He's got a bib number so he's part of the ride and I wonder if he'll make it. His gear ratios don't look too promising and I think he's cranked himself out. He says he's alright so I ride on.
I feel a little sorry, and a great deal of respect for the people on the mountain bikes. They're great for downhill and cranking up a dirt road, but there's a reason that road bikes were invented. Their bikes are so much heavier and with so much more road resistance from the tires that they use a lot of energy just spinning down the road. 100 miles on one of them is more like 150 on my Cannondale.
The recumbent and tandem bikes are another story.
The visual or apparent balance of a recumbent kind of unnerves me. They look very unstable, but I've never seen one crash. Maybe because it's easy to plant both feet on the ground if you start to lose it. The seats have got to be the most comfortable; like sitting in a lawn chair. They are heavier than a road bike so they aren't quite as fast uphill, but they are much more aerodynamic and literally scream going down, if the rider has the nerve. I'd guess there's not much saddle pain after the ride either. That alone has got to be a big advantage.
I play leapfrog with the tandems. Unless the stoker is strong I can pass them on the uphill, but with the weight of two riders they can often get more downhill speed than I can. I get a smile out of the father/child tandems. It's got to be a great bonding exercise. Either that or they will hate each other for the rest of their lives. This year while going up a canyon I'm overtaking a father/son tandem and I can hear the squeak squeak of a rubber ducky kind of toy. As I pass them I see they have stuck a toy dinosaur, Barney or something, on the stoker's handlebars. As dad shifted back in the saddle to get more push into his rank, with each revolution his butt pushes against the toy making it squeak and the kid is cracking up.
(2010. I have seen some remarkable things on this ride, but this year between Lompoc and stop # 2 Bill pointed out a tandem with a set of crutches strapped on the back. When I was leaving stop #2 I saw them come in and saw that the lady acting as the stoker was an amputee. She was missing her left leg about 10” below the hip. At this point of the ride I knew they were doing the full 100 miles. That’s determination and grit.)
Here's where I saw the amputeeI roll into the third SAG stop at the airport and refill my water bottles, stuff a PB and J sandwich in my mouth, eat a banana for the potassium, hit the outhouse and go. Elapsed time is a little less than 10 minutes. 58 miles behind me and 44 to go, all uphill for the next 30. I feel pretty good and don't want to lose time standing around when I can be riding. I probably should pick up another banana, some Fig Newtons and oatmeal cookies to take along, but I've still got a couple of jell packs and power bars, so I don't hang around.
This stop is usually pretty crowded. I see a lady TV reporter from a local station interviewing one of the ride officiators. She asks him how many riders are on the course today and I hear him say a little over three thousand. That's why it so quiet. In the past there have been as many as seven thousand riders. The airport was one of the starting points for several years, but not this year. A few times the ride was so big they had a third starting point in Lompoc. I don't know why it's so low this year. Maybe the rain scared some off.
I roll out to the street, cross the intersection and hang right down the frontage road along highway 135 for a few miles. The guy ahead of me is wearing tube socks, which give him away as a novice rider. I pull up alongside and we start to talk. It’s his first time on this ride.
"Well, the best part of the ride is coming up." I tell him. "Now we get into the hills."
"You mean those weren't hills back there?"
"Oh they were OK, but the good ones are a few miles ahead. The top of Foxen Canyon and ‘The Wall’ ". (You always say "The Wall" in quotes. It sounds ominous.)
He's heard something about "The Wall" and thinks he saw something on the map last night. I'm getting a kick playing with his head.
"Yeah, the top of Foxen Canyon is actually steeper, but you can't see it except for short stretches because it turns a lot, but "The Wall" is psychologically more intimidating because you can see the whole thing from the bottom and you've already gone 87miles with the last 30 all uphill. But don't worry," I say. "Just drop into low gear, stand up and keep pumping. You'll make it." I’m so patronizing. Truth is, I hate the top of the canyon and "The Wall". It's the only real challenge for me on the whole ride, and believe me it's enough.
A couple of miles and we turn east on Clark avenue and start the long uphill grind for the next couple of hours. Uphill, across highway 101, up another hill, then out on the flat for a couple miles. We're out of the low areas and into cattle and oil country now. There's a slight prevailing smell of sulfur from the oil wells rising in the heat.
I can see the front of the San Rafael Mountains. There's snow on the upper peaks and everything is so green. California is technically desert and the green season is short even on the coast. I love it all the more because it's so uncommon. My thermometer says 87 degrees but a light breeze is blowing and it feels cool and soothing. Now down a short drop, right on Dominion and up another long climb for about 3 1/2 miles at a 3% grade. Not bad if it's not too hot. It's a camel hump with two climbs and two drops till I end up at the same altitude before I get to Sisquoc. The last drop can be a killer. You can get going faster than you think and when you get to the turn at Palmer road you're turning left into a right hand banked curve, and the road is banked the wrong way for you. To make matters worse there's loose gravel on the road. There are warning signs all down the bill to the curve but more than one rider has eaten it on this turn.
Once again I blow past the SAG stop just before Sisquoc but I'm starting to think I should have stopped. I'm not really low on liquids but I think maybe I should be rehydrating more often than I have. I probably should have finished a 24-oz. bottle since Santa Maria and refilled before "The Wall". But it’s too late for that and I just keep going. I suck on a couple of jell packs, eat a power bar, take a few swigs of juice and hope it kicks in when I need it. I'll be sucking on these bottles for the next 15 miles or so. A little farther, turn right at Sisquoc and I'm now officially going up Foxen Canyon.
The road runs straight for about a mile, then jogs right and hugs the south side of the canyon in the shade of the trees. About 8 years ago at this spot I saw a rider about 300 yards ahead of me with a sign fastened to his back He wasn't going very fast so I caught up with him in a short time. The sign read, "Please be patient with me. I'm going as fast as I can for 83 years old" That just blew me away. He'd already gone some 75 miles and was still going steady. I hope he made it and I think about him every year when I start to feel sorry for myself. (This year I had the strangest thought as I was riding through here. As healthy as that guy was – he has to be dead now. He’d be over 100 years old today. I wonder how many more years I have.)
The next year as I was riding across the Vandenberg plateau I saw similar rider. He was gray haired and mustached, lean and angular, lined face, kind of weather beaten with that old cowboy look. By now I'd gotten into the habit of talking with fellow riders so I pulled alongside and started to chat. To my complete surprise I found out he was a couple of years younger than me! At first I thought he was telling a tall tale, but as we talked I saw that he was the real thing. It turned out he had been a heavy drug user and drinker and it had just about killed him. He was off the juice and dope now and biking was one of the ways he was trying to regain his health. I think about him at every ride too and thank God for my own amazingly good health.
We’re in wine country now. The breeze is gone but the air is a little cooler, coming off the mountain. It's about 11:30 and the day hasn't heated up in the canyon yet. The workers are out in the fields pruning back the vines. There is vineyard after vineyard here and most of them have been here for over 100 years. The trees feel ancient. I pass an old adobe farmhouse that burned down many years ago. The roof is long gone as are the window headers. The columns and walls of sun-baked adobe are weathered and crumbly and stick up like the pillars of a Greek temple, and grass is growing thickly out of the tops.
I wish I knew more about this area and its history. I do know that it was settled by a man named Foxen and explored by John C. Fremont, the man of whom Lincoln said he would not have such a general surveyor who became the owner of all he surveyed. The Chumash had a large population living here and There are still a tribe of Churnash living in the area and they run the Chumash Casino in Santa Ynez.
This is the deadly part of the ride. For the next 10 or so miles it's nothing but climbing. Sometimes steeply, sometimes not so steep, but always up and up. Usually when I climb I recite things or sing songs in my head to take my mind off the job. It works, but I've noticed that when the climb is really tedious the weirdest things come into my mind, like Gordon Lightfoot singing Canadian Railroad Trilogy. Canadian Railroad Trilogy??
Part of the 30-mile climbThe road is a farm road in every sense of the word. It's poorly paved, rutted and in place. Someone ran a caterpillar tractor along it so it has the texture of a washboard. Most of the ruts take on a stealth quality in the sunlight. They're not sharply defined and there are no shadows. You really can't see them until you hit them. I'm already tired and the jolts are sapping what energy I have left. It's bad enough that my shoulders are starting to ache and my rear is getting sore from the saddle but now the vibration from the road is starting to work its way from my legs and lower back to my upper spine and finally my brain. Mile after interminable mile. I don't look around much anymore and my attention closes down to the 6 or 8 feet directly in front of my bike. The rattling becomes the only sensation. My brain even begins to shut down and finally only the medulla oblongata keeps me going. Some of my family would say that's the only functioning part of my brain anyway, so maybe I'm not so far gone.
The bottom of the climb out of Foxen CanyonSuddenly the road turns right and rises into the trees. I'm near the top of the canyon and the toughest climb of the ride. It's 6/10s of a mile to the top and we rise a little more than 250 feet; about an 8% grade. Now I pay the price for not drinking enough early in the ride. My thighs start to cramp. With each turn of the crank I get a charly horse right above the knees. I try standing but for some reason it makes my legs spasm worse, so I sit back down and work on the pull more than the push of the crank. The road rises through the trees to a turn then rises more through more trees to another turn waaay up there. I think about the rider whose head I played with and I have a feeling this is Karma payback time. Then I turn another bend and I'm at the top. The road slowly starts to level out and I can shift up till I'm in my top gear at last and flying down the other side.
(2010) I’ve learned my lesson since then. I refuel at all the SAG stops, usually drink about 80 oz of Gatorade by this time and rarely have cramps anymore. But it’s still a very tiring climb)
Oh blessed relief! It's a steep drop and I can sit back a little and relax. The road drops quickly to the backside of the hill into another canyon. I'm getting back into wine country and there are some nicely tended vineyards in the lower part of the canyon. Fess Parker, the original Daniel Boone of Walt Disney fame built a vineyard and Visitor's Center here. The first year I rode was before the center was built and he let them put in a SAG stop on the lot. It's a beautiful building and if I was a wine drinker I'd go there just to say I'd been.
For about 2 1/2 miles I get all the rest I can because I'm coming up to "The Wall". The Firestone Vineyard at the base of "The Wall" is the last SAG stop. (This year it was Fess Parkers’s place again) Again I don't stop, but for a whole other reason. One year I stopped there and my legs stiffened up so badly that I hardly made it up "The Wall". I can tell by the way they worked at the canyon top that if I stop it will happen again so I decide to tough it out and climb.
"The Wall" is also about 6/10 mile climb and about 250 feet up, but like I said before, you can see it from start to finish. And besides, when you stand something up that's 250 feet tall it looks a heck of a lot higher than it sounds. Consider that the average Freeway Bridge has a 15-foot clearance for trucks, then stack 16 of those one on top of the other and you have 250 feet. We've already gone 87 miles and the last two hours have been that lovely farm road from Hell. My legs ache and there doesn't seem to be anything left in them. I shift down to the lowest gear and settle in for the climb. The cramping comes back with a vengeance. My mother’s voice comes to me with a vengeance. "You push yourself too hard dear. I worry about you, you're so competitive with yourself” Dang! I think she's right this time. I do make it though. Some kind soul has painted a message on the road, "Last Hill", and farther up, "You're almost there!" I glance to my right and see the valley floor laid out below me and it's a wonderful sight. The road begins to flatten out. I shift up gear after gear. I'm over and it's 14 miles downhill to Solvang. Almost downhill.
It's 2+ miles down to Highway 154 and then a hard right on Ballard Canyon Road for the really truly last hill. It's not a tall hill or even that steep, but it's like the final parting shot from the ride. I wind up and up, back and forth through the hairpin turns and I'm over. I don't even cramp on this one. Down sharply on the other side, through another hairpin turn and it's a straight shot to town. As I go through this last turn I slow down a lot and study the road ahead. The ride wasn't always popular with the locals and one year, the story goes, someone scattered tacks on the road at this turn to blow out tires. I tend to think this was just an urban legend.
From the top of "The Wall" to the town we drop about 700 feet. There's not much need to pedal and it's a good thing because fatigue has caught up with me. If there's no headwind I average about 30 mph for the rest of the road until I get into town.
Ghosts of the past come to me again. The year I started in Santa Maria I was fresh and riding like a bat out of Hell down this road. I stopped at the Solvang SAG stop to get some snacks and as I started out the driveway, not even completely on my bike yet, my front tire popped. When we got it off the rim we found that the rubber spoke guard had deteriorated and fallen apart and a spoke had punctured the tube. There was basically no guard left. I could see the imprints of all the spokes on my tube. All I could think of was that the tire could have blown at any time on the downhill run, but it went out at the least possible dangerous time. I could only write it off to Providence again, there was no other explanation.
March 15, 2000
2010
Although we missed Syd this year we had the added surprise of having GK, Susanna and Van (and the twins, sort of) meet us in Solvang.
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