At one

Every night after reading scriptures, we recite a few verses from memory. The one we always choose first is "Adam fell that men might be, and men are that they might have joy." (2 Nephi 2:25)

Over the past few years, I've learned more about just how big a fall from heaven that was, and it's been overwhelming.

In the past, I've generally thought of sin as an isolated, individual event, as are its effects. Sin might hurt you and the people closest to you, but that would be the end of it. A little bit of repenting would fix things up just fine.

But for whatever reason, I see things differently now. Selfishness is always at the heart of evil, but it can be perpetuated a variety of ways, and sometimes it is taught as much as it is chosen. People do have agency, but it is often hampered by a variety of environmental and cultural factors. Although a terrible person occasionally has a wonderful upbringing, most people who choose wickedness seem to slide into it in one way or another, be it through addictions, lousy parents, mental illness, societies that teach them how to hate, or any number of factors that seem to limit their accountability and agency from the get go.

Additionally, most nations have a history of oppression of some kind or another, and the effects of that can linger for centuries. Worse, quotes from religious texts -- be it the Bible, Quran, or other scriptures -- can be used as a battering ram for outrageous policies that can further this oppression by adding the threat of the wrath of God toward anyone who speaks up.

How could the Atonement cover all of this? How could the Savior redeem countries with stains of evil on them? How could He make centuries of state or religious sponsored abuse not impact the present anymore? How could He atone for pollution, for systemic racism, for unwise foreign or domestic policies, for corruption, for poverty, for drought, for wishful thinking confused with revelation, for poor decisions, and even for mistakes that still result in death? How could Christ save the world from itself?

The Savior himself had an interesting answer to that in His intercessory prayer: "I pray not for the world." (John 17:9) Considering that He earlier told Nicodemus that "God sent not his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved," (John 3:17) that seems a little harsh and contradictory.

But here's the detail I hadn't understood -- it's the "world through him" that will be saved, not just the world. It is the disciples that believed Christ that he prays for, and they are the ones who will become one with the Father, even as Christ is one with the Father (John 17:11).

Christ's Atonement is absolutely about families and communities and societies -- that's why we have churches and temples, and that's why we look forward to Zion. But those communities will be comprised of people who have chosen Him individually. No matter how we first become acquainted with sin, whether we slide into it or willfully choose it, we all need to individually turn to Christ. It is through Him that every person in the world can overcome all the scars and baggage we inherited by being born.

This is not to say that we should just give up on "The World" once we have individually accepted Christ. Although it is ultimately more important to take the slums out of a person than a person out of the slums (to quote Ezra Taft Benson), often we take the slums out of ourselves by working to take each other out of the slums. Besides, people really do have an easier time choosing the right and seeing the light when they aren't surrounded by crime, alcohol, and scarcity. Kids really do have an easier time in life when we take the lead out of their drinking water and their paint. People are less likely to return to sinful ways when they have a supportive community to nurture them through the change. We should work to create Zion both temporally and spiritually in the world we currently live in, even if The World itself will never fully be incorporated into Zion.

And ultimately, though I still do not fully understand it, I have faith that somehow all the gaps in our efforts -- the people who grow up without proper accountability, the ones who are subjected to a failed policy here or there, and the ones who never get the chance to accept Christ in this life -- were somehow already accounted for in the Garden of Gethsemane. Somehow Christ's Atonement is big enough to handle a really fallen world, because it is a world full of individuals who are still God's children. And though things may never look like Zion in this lifetime, we can all find out one by one that when we turn to Him, He is mighty to save.

And they will be my people

I did it. I finally read the Old Testament! . . . okay, some of it didn't have the best reading comprehension, like Job or Jeremiah. And I just skimmed 2 Chronicles long enough to convince myself that the name Nephi would have fit in with all the other biblical names. (Oh hey . . . did you know Ethan is a name in the Bible? I never knew!)

But yes. I finally read it. And to be honest, it's kind of okay that I waited to read it until I was a little older. I mean, I had read some for seminary and Sunday School and I had read Genesis a few times, but a lot of it would have gone over my head had I not been married, pregnant, and/or lactating. Also, the way I read it was 2 chapters on weekdays, 3 chapters on Saturday, and 5 on Sunday. If you do that, I would recommend reading the prophets and Psalms on the weekends otherwise you just get tired of the same old stuff.

Anyway, even though it was difficult to get through, I still learned a lot. Here's a smattering:

• The Old Testament prophets used lots and lots of imagery. Lots of it. I mean, a way lot. Thing is, they didn't have a lot of stuff to choose from, so their images were usually from nature or from the human body. For instance, something undesirable or disgusting was menstruous. And Jeremiah 30:6 made me laugh out loud. Oldest joke in the book, huh? (Yeah, I know I'm not mature.)
• Some of the imagery was powerful to me having been through labor and currently nursing a baby. Can a woman forget her sucking child? Goodness gracious no. Once my milk comes in, all I can think about is feeding my baby. Having this experience made Isaiah 49 much more powerful to me. Come to think of it, that's probably why they used the human body for so much imagery -- it's something we are all familiar with.
• Another symbol they used a lot was that of a marriage to describe the covenant between God and Israel. I grew a little tired of Israel being described the flighty wife because it seems that men are more likely to be flighty. But that's the Old Testament for ya.
• Politics. The Old Testament had a lot more politics than the Book of Mormon. I mean, it makes sense -- there were a lot more civilizations there than just Nephites and Lamanites. It was hard keeping track of everyone, even coming in with a pretty good understanding of Assyria, Babylon, and Persia. You throw Moabites and Ammonites and Philistines and Edomites and Egyptians and Syrians in as well and it takes a lot of work to keep track of them all. But I felt like it was usually worth the trouble to know who Pekah and Remaliah and all these people were and what they were up to because then the symbolism was made more clear.
• Idolatry! Oh my goodness there was so much idolatry! Basically ever since Moses led the children of Israel to the promised land, they got sucked in by every practice of their neighbors. It was really disheartening. It led to the destruction of both the Northern Kingdom and Southern Kingdom. I had never realized before why exactly Jerusalem had been destroyed and why Lehi had to flee. It was idol worship! It was sexual perversions and fertility rites and murder and human sacrifice and Baal and Ashteroth and groves and the whole nine yards.
• But what was even more disheartening was when I realized how easily we get sucked into idol worship, too. We worship the almighty dollar and food and Apple products and sports and celebrities and smart devices instead of God. Really. (Complete with the sexual perversions, I hate to add.) Reading the Old Testament made me realize how often we (even in the Church) disobey the first commandment to have no other gods.
• I was surprised by how patient God seemed throughout the Old Testament. The Israelites turned their backs on Him as soon as something interesting came along, but He withheld judgment as long as possible. Then it seemed pretty clear that He just let other wicked people punish them, but He didn't smite them himself. It taught me that blessings we enjoy are due to God actively protecting us, and that without His help we'd be scrambling.
• The idea of the covenant was drilled into my head over and over and over and over over the 1184 pages of the Old Testament (perhaps repetition is a good teacher after all). The whole book teaches about the Abrahamic Covenant -- "I will be their God, and they will be my people." (Zechariah 13: 9) We learn what it means that "I will be their God" -- that he will make the rain come in a dry land, protect a tiny, backwards culture from their neighbors, and make His children strong (Isaiah 49:25). And we learn that He always considers them His people, even after their infidelity (Hosea 2).
• In short, the Old Testament is about the Atonement. It is about God rescuing us after we willfully disobey and break the covenants. It is about returning to the source of life, the fountain of living waters, the One who travailed for our souls who will feed us with the milk of everlasting life. 

Pregnant Ponderings, Part . . . Two?

Lately, life's been good. Lots of school, lots of homework, lots of working on thesis, lots of old Arthur episodes, lots of graduate schools accepting Kevin for his PhD . . . just busy and good.

There's not a whole lot to report on, but here's a list of some mildly interesting things:

~Environmental or Economical?: A few weeks ago I talked to a professor about some homework points, and before we got very far into the discussion, he said, "I notice that you and your husband like to use as few sheets of paper as possible. Is this environmental or economical?"
Actually, it's neither. It's probably a habit I've developed over 16 years of school, coupled with a strong dislike of wastefulness (not necessarily environmentally driven). So I didn't quite know how to respond to him. I stuttered out, "I think it's laziness . . . no, I don't need paper . . . no, I just bought a ream not that long ago . . ." (And since then I've used more paper per assignment.)
Then, a few days ago, I got homework back for another class. This required a printout of a plot which was mostly black. Since the printer I usually use doesn't do a good job with black, I inverted the image so that it was mostly white. I put a little note on the printout saying, "I inverted this to save ink." When I got the assignment back, I had full points, but he had underlined where I wrote "to save ink" and said, "Wow! Nice. Either environmentally conscious or budget conscious -> both admirable." I guess some professors are more a fan of the "environmental or economical" than others.

~Liken the Scriptures: I have a goal to read the Old Testament this year, and right now I'm smack dab in the middle of Leviticus. It's been . . . difficult. I know there's lots of wonderful symbolism in the Law of Moses, but it's just not all that interesting to read. The Institute manual I've been using has helped a lot, but still. I just don't care about the dimensions of the tabernacle or the Church Handbook in 1500 B.C. Worst part is, sometimes there are unmet expectations. Like when you think of Exodus, you think, "Oh! Story of Moses! That story rocks!" and it does. And then you get into the wilderness, and Exodus goes downhill from there in terms of storytelling. (Again, it's full of wonderful symbolism, but the story is just not there.) Like, I knew Leviticus and Numbers would be tedious, but Exodus?
It's like driving to eastern Kansas on I-70. The first part of the trip is like Genesis. It's interesting. Especially there at the end when you're going through all the red rock. Then you get to western Colorado and it's still exciting and interesting and full of tunnels (I love tunnels). And similarly, the beginning of Exodus still has a great story.
But then comes east of Denver. And nothing against Colorado, but eastern Colorado just isn't that great to look at. I mean, people give Kansas a hard time for being flat, but there's plenty of Colorado which is just as flat as western Kansas. In fact, once you hit Hays or Salina, Kansas isn't flat at all!
So where am I going with this analogy? Eastern Colorado = 2nd half of Exodus (definitely not living up to its name, either the state or the book). Western Kansas = Leviticus (long and flat and painful, but you were expecting it). Eastern Kansas = Numbers (interesting again). I mean, I think Numbers is more interesting than Leviticus. Doesn't it have the story about people eating so much quail that they throw it up through their noses?
I'm pretty sure that's not what they mean when they say liken the scriptures, but hey. There's a lot in Leviticus that I don't plan on likening to myself. Like not eating pork.

Here's a picture for good measure:

Either eastern Colorado or western Kansas. Pretty, but flat.

(speaking of Colorado and Kansas . . . it's been way too long since we visited family out there. We'll stop by this summer. Probably when we drive to wherever we're going for grad school.)

~Baby update: My belly button popped out. Yup.

And there you have it. My deepest thoughts from the past few weeks. :)