It’s been a beautiful week down here.
As I walked to school, on the way to the bookstore from the west walkway, I saw a hand drummer sitting behind the sculptures, explaining his hobby to some unoccupied sister. I went around the sculptures, avoiding a cougher and noticing some of the brave hangers-on dropping from the trees. Down the stairs came a not-young Asian lady with her girthy, taller, white husband. Hearing the thudding of the drum, the woman took a troubled glance around for its source.
"There are all kinds," I thought — all kinds of righteous, both those who love peace and mildness, and those who don’t mind obliterating the mildness enjoyed by others for their own chemical pleasure. And their divider, apparently, is age. It must be a rare old person who enjoyed the same aged calmness in their youth; and the selfish exuberance of most of these children will abandon them when their bodies start hurting, and they will start casting their own troubled looks around at the noise of the new babies.
As I approached the stairway, I noticed a hanging banner on the left: "Battle of the Bands", with a group of fierce-looking, badly apparelled, dark-painted young people holding some musical instruments in threatening positions. It was some kind of advertisement for a performance or something.
"Strange," I mused, to see such devilish-looking creatures celebrated on that sign here at BYU. I reached the top of those few stairs, and the thought entered me…
This merging with Babylon, this individualism of the youth, this careless behaviour still so much brighter than the darkness of the world, but itself so gray and shadowy next to holiness…
…this is the divider coming upon the Church, to drive out the good from the bad.
There will surely be others yet… I don’t know.
But this rejection of reverence in daily life is already known of heaven. "It must happen," I thought, that we can know the difference between light and dark, sincere and insincere.
It may seem to oppress the youth inordinately; but it’s a very small divider, easy to stand clear of. In James:
"Behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth."
Well, I possibly misread things. People in all ages have feared the next generation’s hatred of wisdom. Has it not been justified — has the whole world not steadily fallen deeper into loathsome ignorance from its earlier nobilities, its dispensations? Yet, has the earth not persisted these many centuries despite it?
But as I went on my way, seeing the tree on the left of me all spindly and bare, which was so vibrantly coloured just a month ago, I wondered…
…if things weren’t getting ready to change… or if the world weren’t getting ready to shake itself, and many of us righteous fall early like leaves.