
Today in Stake Conference the visiting Area Authority, Elder Crittenden, shared an excerpt from Sister Okasaki's book, Lighten up. I had never read or heard quotes from this book before, but when I heard this excerpt shared today, I thought I might share with the rest of you. I'm sure not all of you will read it as I have friends and family both Christian and non-Christian, God-fearing and Atheist, but for those of you who do take the time to read it, I hope it touches you as deeply as it touched me.
"We know that on some level Jesus experienced the totality of mortal existence in Gethsemane. It's our faith that he experienced everything- absolutely everything. Sometimes we don't think through the implications of that belief. We talk in great generalities about the sins of all humankind, about the suffering of the entire human family. But we do not experience pain in generalities. We experience it individually. That mean Jesus know what it felt like when your mother died of cancer- how it was for your mother, how it still is for you. He knows what it felt like to lose the student body election. He knows that moment when the brakes locked, and the car started to skid. He experienced the slave ship sailing from Ghana toward Virgina. He experienced napalm in Vietnam. He knows about drug addiction and alcoholism. There is nothing you have experienced as a woman that he dose not also know and recognize. On a profound level, he understands about pregnancy and giving birth. He knows about PMS and cramps and menopause. He understands about rape and infertility and abortion. His last recorded word to his disciples were, "And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." (Matthew 28:20) What does that mean? It means he understands your mother-pain when your five-year-old leaves for kindergarten, when a bully picks on your fifth-grader, when your daughter calls to say that the new baby has Downs syndrome. He knows your mother-rage when a trusted babysitter sexually abuses your two-year-old, when someone gives your thirteen-year-old drugs, when someone seduces your seventeen-year-old. He knows the pain you live with when you come home to a quiet apartment where the only children who ever come are visitors, when your fiftieth wedding anniversary rolls around and your husband has been dead for two years. He knows all of that. He's been there. He's been lower than that.
The door to him is always open, but the door to you can be closed and stay closed - if you choose to close it. If there is one great constant in the universe, it is the unfailing love of the Savior, the other great constant is his unfailing respect for human agency. He will not override your will, even for your own good. He will not compel you to accept his help. He will not force you to accept his companionship. He leaves you free to choose. I beg you to open the door and let him out of that room. Give him your whole heart, all the pieces, and let him heal you. He promises, "And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all of your heart." (Jeremiah 29:13.) With all our hearts. That means we don't have pieces of our hearts that he doesn't touch or that aren't relevant to him. He's not waiting for us to be perfect. You know that people who live in a certain latitude and experience long winter nights can become depressed and even suicidal, because something in our bodies requires whole spectrum light for a certain numbers of hours a day. Our spiritual requirement for light is just as desperate and as deep as our physical need for light. Jesus is the light of the world. We know that the world is a dark place sometimes, but we need not walk in darkness. The people who sit in darkness have seen a great light, and the people who walk in darkness can have a bright companion. We need him, and he is ready to come to us, if we'll open the door and let him in."





