The Power of Prayer

For those of us who practice religion, we know that despite our best efforts, we sometimes can't help but be bored by the banalities of our faith.  Or, better put, by our inability to properly focus our attention on the intricacies of our faith.  Call it what you will, sometimes you just stare holes into your wristwatch or slip into unconsciousness, your head teetering and tottering on your elastic neck while someone at the front of the room tries to save your soul from damnation.   I learned from my father years ago it's better to lean forward, bow your head, and give the illusion of serious, meditative contemplation.

I was thus engaged this morning during Sacrament meeting (in my defense, Celeste is out of town, and she is normally my first defense), when I heard a voice.  No, it was not the voice of God or angels, but it was nonetheless arresting.  It was the voice of the purest form of Southern Redneck; a true backwoods accent that would have put the entire cast of The Andy Griffith Show to shame.   My attention piqued, I looked up to see a fitting man for the voice.  At the pulpit stood a gruffly shaved gentleman I'll call Brother Ray.  Brother Ray is a heck of a guy.  A little rough around the edges, but he's good people, no question.  He just recently started coming back to church after years of inactivity.  He's possesses a unique talent for fixing things with his hands and a heart of gold that urges him to do more than he is asked for less than he deserves.  On this occasion, Brother Ray was wearing a light blue short-sleeved shirt with a forest green tie to go along with his closely-cropped red hair.  In his beautiful Dixiean accent, he explained to us that he had been asked to speak about the power of prayer.

"Well, I hope y'all don't mahnd, but I'm gonna' do somethin' a bit different t' start out."  He then bowed his head and started praying, and we, not knowing what else to do, followed his lead.

"Thank yeh," he said after he finished.  "I'm a bit nervous.  I haven't givnnuh talk in church since I got outta' prison."  He talked about how prayer had been there for him while he was locked up, and that through that experience, he learned that prayer can take many forms.

"You don't have t' be on yer knees t' be prayin'," he said.  "You don't have t' be crying tears big as horse turds er nothin'.  God don't care if yer at home er in yer truck er whatever, he just cares that yer doin' it."  

He then proceeded to tell us about how prayer had saved him from another round of incarceration after he was slighted by another man on an air-conditioning job.  He got in his truck and sped off to the man's home.

"I jumped inna mah truck and flew down the road hot as hell.  I was s' dern mad I thought 'When I get this sucker I'm gonna' break his neck.'  Then I decided to pray before I knocked on his door and got a feelin' to go eat somethin' first.  So I got me a burger anna Coke, and by the time I got back, I didn't have no more hate in me.  I was calm from the Holy Spirit, and I worked out a deal with the man jus' like that."

He topped off a wonderful talk, peppered with the occasional non-sequitur, by thanking his wife for sticking with him, and expressing his love for his two boys.  "The younger one there, I think he might a been born with twelve night-crawlers up his butt cause that boy can't sit still, but I love 'em."

I didn't sleep a wink.

rePUBLICANS & democRATS (and why I'm one of the latter)

INTRODUCTION:

If you support government programs to help the poor, you're a Socialist.

If you think government programs are wasteful and ought to be abolished, you're a racist.

If you don't agree with everything I say, you're an idiot.

If I sound like I'm being ridiculous, it's because I am.  I am doing a near-perfect impersonation of today's pedestrian political rhetoric.  I can't scroll through 3 inches of Facebook feed without someone lambasting another persons political beliefs, or accusing another political party of being the very definition of evil.  It makes me hate politics, knowing how divisive it is.  Politics should be a noble, respectable endeavor where men and women go to make better the world we live in.  Instead it's a boiling vat of toxic butt rush.

I'm sorry, but if someone supports welfare, they're not a Socialist.  And I hate to break it to you, but just because someone didn't vote for Obama, it doesn't make them a racist.  Though the extremists on either side of the argument won't admit it, there are good Republicans and good Democrats.  Of course, each lot has their fair share of bad apples, and they're the ones making all the noise.  I wish they'd shut up.

THE CONVENTION:

I recently attended the Democratic National Convention in Charlotte.  First, to meet with Mormon Democrats from across the country, and to meet Harry Reid and to hear him speak.  It was a short speech where he talked about his faith and quoted scripture.  In front of the national news media and dozens of reporters, we all sang "Have I Done Any Good?"

Then, thanks to my father's endless connections within the Democratic Party, I was able to obtain a guest pass into the Convention arena, which was no easy task.  I have to admit, I felt kind of cool as I flashed my credentials that led me past a wall of security guards surrounding the arena, leaving hundreds of people in my wake who were as disappointed as they were eager to enter.

I saw many political celebrities, including Sen. Reid, CNN's Anderson Cooper, the Rev. Jesse James, and Jason Jones and Samantha Bee of The Daily Show.  Then, inside the convention hall, I watched dozens of speeches by the Democratic Party's most powerful and influential members.  Y'all heard of Cory Booker?  Holla!

Hello, Anderson Cooper.

The Reverend.

Since Celeste couldn't come with me because of her work schedule, I spent much of the evening alone, and it gave me lots of time to think about the great political debate, and I got all sorts of philosophical on myself.  Earlier that evening, I had been interviewed by a reporter from the Salt Lake Tribune who asked if it was "weird" that I was supporting President Obama when Romney and I shared the same religion.

"I'm not voting for a prophet," I told him.  "I'm voting for a president and Romney doesn't represent what I think is best for America."

WHY I (ALMOST ALWAYS) VOTE DEMOCRAT:

So, why am I a Democrat?  Why do I think that Romney, a man with whom I share the Melchizedek Priesthood, doesn't represent what's best for America?

I was raised to cheer for the underdog, and you'll find a lot of those in the Democratic party.  Whether in sports or in life, my dad taught me that the little guy deserves a fighting chance.  The poor, the immigrant, the outcast, etc.  Perhaps that's why I'm so good at supporting Utah State athletics, or why my father has made a living out of taking on big insurance companies that don't want to pay out benefits to an otherwise bankrupt family, or why I still cry every time I watch the film Rudy.  Perhaps that's why I became a teacher, and why, when the opportunity came knocking, I bypassed law school.

This is what led me to the Democratic Party.  It'd be hard for anyone to argue that the Republicans do a better job of taking care of the poor, the immigrants, or the outcasts.  Their policies, both fiscal and domestic, are more suited for the wealthy and the white, the mainstream and the mundane.

It would be equally hard to argue that the Republican Party is as inclusive as the Democratic Party.  While the Democratic National Convention was a melting pot of cultures, ideas, and skin colors, the Republican Convention looked like a gathering of Country Club donors and desperate housewives.  Where were the meek?  Where were the poor?  Where were the persecuted?  They were all in Charlotte, being included.

A perfect example of a demented outcast in need of love and empathy (I'm referring to the one on the right).

Senator Reid made a point of saying that he is a Democrat because of his Mormon faith, not in spite of it.  I couldn't agree more.  When King Benjamin delivers his address to the Nephites, when Christ delivers his Sermon on the Mount, and when our modern-day prophets speak out about serving one another and lifting up the downtrodden, they all point to an undeniable and eternal truth: we are all God's children.  We ought to love everyone, and judge no one.  We ought to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the strangers.  We ought to clothe the naked, visit the sick and the imprisoned.

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." -Matthew 25:40

WRAPPING IT UP:

Not all Republicans are callous racists, and not all Democrats are benevolent saints.  And, as Pres. Obama wisely put it in his acceptance speech a few nights ago, "No party has a monopoly on wisdom."  That's why I will never be a straight-ticket voter.  I'm proud to say that I have voted for several Republicans, my favorite of whom was Governor Jon Huntsman in 2008.

Huntsman intentionally avoided the Republican National Convention this year.  He basically said that he would return to "full fellowship" in the Republican Party "...when they decide to become a little more inclusive and broaden the footprint a little bit, and with a larger, more hopeful optimistic message about the future of the country that's based on real solutions."

I'm with you, Jonny.  When the Republican Party does this, I could get comfortable there.  Until then, I'll remain a moderate Mormon liberal who is caring enough to vote Democratic most of the time, and pragmatic enough to vote Republican some of the time.

"I am an extreme moderate, I believe anybody not in favor of moderation and compromise ought to be castrated." -Benjamin Franklin

Still a beautiful sight, even from the nosebleeds.