During the week, my bishop’s secretary had made an appointment with me for Sunday at 11:50; just over an hour before church. I think I’d planned to ask my mom for a ride. But when Sunday came, I woke up not twenty minutes before the appointment, and concluded it a lost cause.
Just then, Mike Wilkes called. He was going to choir practice, also an hour before church, and wondered if I still wanted a ride (he’d volunteered to drive me regularly some weeks ago). I assumed it was divine intervention, so I agreed. I was just getting out of the shower when he arrived. I threw everything on and met him in his car in about four minutes…
At church, I found a queue outside the bishop’s door. My appointment was already stale by ten minutes. When I asked whom the bishop was meeting with, one fellow told me that he wasn’t even there yet. I walked around the building trying to see if he was lurking anywhere. Soon I returned to the office. The door was opened, as well as the door next to it, and I saw that the line had been waiting for a different ward’s bishop. My bishop then appeared and ushered me into his office, saying that he wouldn’t take long. All four of them were sitting there, and they didn’t leave when I sat down. That made me a little nervous. I tried joking around with them… Except the bishop, they had all been in my elders quorum lesson last week, and remembered me making a point of their age during that class…
I had been preparing myself for a personal interview, but without asking any questions, Bishop Berry starting telling me about an "important" calling they had for me, and Brother Neeley added that it required "responsibility"… I laughed that I probably shouldn’t have been 10 minutes late (by then, it was actually 15).
From there, the meeting got more serious on my end as I tried to absorb the details. The question in my mind was… whether I could make it work or not, being without a vehicle. But I never had any intention of turning down the request. I’m sure now that all callings from first to last are opportunities that I won’t want to have lost.
I left the office some minutes later with several sheets of information, and at the top of one, "Building Coordinator".
I went to choir; the ward didn’t reject me in the calling; my cousin Ryan taught a nice lesson; and then we went to my old church building for a stake priesthood meeting, where President Ostler spoke of the plague of pornography… which this twisted generation calls a miracle instead of a plague, ridiculing the honest heart that seeks to escape it. Well, if mankind have experienced nothing more joyful than misery, it’s not strange that they should crave it still. But the joy of purity is greater — it’s the joy of power, freedom, and guiltless confidence; the joy of being able to smile at your fellow people instead of hating their gazes; and the joy of simple, sincere, innocent, and unfettered laughter. Purity is fellowship with children. The joy of purity is the joy of optimism, while impurity’s joy is the doomed anxiety of a fugitive, escaping from life.
So what is the fugitive’s response?
To surround himself with crime, that he feel not condemned. So he locks himself up with the other criminals.
…Throw open the doors of your cages… Abandon that dungeon and its wicked echoes that turn thoughts to darkness and rage…
We were all meant to live in sunlight. We were meant for happiness.
I wrote that that Marshall e-mail discussion had closed for me. I had put a reply or two on the linked web journal, but I had avoided answering by unsolicited chain e-mail, which I consider annoying. But on Sunday, my brother’s former friend, also in Joe’s contact list, sent something that was absolutely pleading for refutation… I finally sent a mass reply Sunday night.
Today, there are a few responses as the spam chat continues. I opened one that was nice, but I’m kind of scared to read the rest… ha ha. I spoke of power, and here I am with such a tender ego. Anyway, I only told the truth.
Regardless of truth, most of my online posts with any amount of moralising in them have only gotten me flamed by demons. Bizarre it is, that so many good comments online get voted down, yelled at, and insulted, while so many bad ones get voted up and congratulated.
It’s hard to be hated for the truth… but these are our times, and this is our chance.
All of us who wanted to be heroes when we were little… well… you can’t be one unless you’re the only good guy left. The hero movies don’t always include the part about having to stand alone amidst complete ridicule. But here we are.
…At least… I’ll stand with you, any who are left standing for right. Let’s fight well, and keep our honour; and when the cock crows, we won’t have denied the truth.