Taken from a Relief Society lesson I delievered on Easter morning (3.31.13)
The Atonement
I
wanted to make it clear how personal the Atonement is, how uniquely suited to
individual needs, inadequacies, and struggles. I could talk forever about how
Jesus Christ atoned for the sins of the whole human family, but until I
understand that Jesus Christ atoned for ME, I don’t begin to understand the
Atonement. I want each of you sisters to know that He loves each one of you every
bit as much as He loved the children, women and men of his time and place, and
that just as He ministered to them one by one, so He does to us. MY name is
graven on His hands. And yours is, too.
We access the Atonement through
repentance. When we repent, the Lord allows us to put the mistakes of the past
behind us.
“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and
I, the Lord, remember them no more.
“By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins―behold, he will
confess them and forsake them.”
Each of us knows a person who has
had serious challenges in his or her life―someone who has wandered or wavered.
That person could be a friend or relative, a parent or child, a husband or
wife. That person may even be you.
The miracle of the Atonement is for
all – every person – even every child of God.
The plan of salvation could not be
brought about without an atonement. “Therefore God himself atoneth for the sins of the world, to bring about
the plan of mercy, to appease the demands of justice, that God might be a
perfect, just God, and a merciful God also.”
The atoning sacrifice had to be
carried out by the sinless Son of God, for fallen man could not atone for his
own sins. The Atonement had to be infinite and eternal―to cover all men
throughout all eternity.
Among all the facts of mortality,
none is so certain as its end. Death comes to all. It is our “universal heritage” It may come in infancy or youth or in the
prime of one’s life or even as the effects of age have come to rest upon one’s
head. No matter the cause of death, it
inevitably represents a painful loss of association and, particularly in the
young, a crushing blow to dreams unrealized, ambitions unfulfilled, and hopes
vanquished.
What mortal being, faced with the
loss of a loved one or, indeed, standing himself or herself on the threshold of
infinity, has not pondered what lies beyond the veil?
Centuries ago, Job who had been blessed
with every material gift, only to find himself sorely afflicted by all that can
befall a human being, sat with his companions and asked the timeless question,
“If a man die, shall he live again?”
Job spoke what every other living
man or woman has pondered.
This glorious Easter morning I’d
like to consider Job’s question—“If a man die, shall he live again?”
To understand the meaning of death,
we must appreciate the purpose of life. We know that we lived before our birth
into mortality. In our premortal state, we were doubtless among the sons and daughters of God who shouted for joy
because of the opportunity to come to this challenging yet necessary mortal
existence. We knew that our
purpose was to gain a physical body, to overcome trials, and to prove that we
would keep the commandments of God. Our Father knew that because of the nature
of mortality, we would be tempted, would sin, and we would fall short. So that we might have every chance of
success, He provided a Savior, who would suffer and die for us. Not only
would He atone for our sins, but as a part of that Atonement, He would also
overcome the physical death to which we would be subject because of the Fall of
Adam.
Thus, more than 2,000 years ago,
Christ, our Savior, was born to mortal life in a stable in Bethlehem. The
long-foretold Messiah had come.
No mere mortal can conceive the full
import of what Christ did for us in Gethsemane. He Himself later described the
experience: “[The] suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to
tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body
and spirit.”
CHRIST’S
JOURNEY TO HIS DEATH
We know from scripture that Jesus’
arrival in Jerusalem on the Sunday preceding Passover was a great public
moment. But eagerness to continue walking with Him would quickly begin to wane.
This was a telling time among those
who knew Jesus more personally. The most difficult to understand in this group
is Judas Iscariot. We know the divine plan required Jesus to be crucified, but
it is wrenching to think that one of His special witnesses who sat at His feet,
heard Him pray, watched Him heal, and felt His touch could betray Him and all
that He was for 30 pieces of silver. We are not the ones to judge Judas’s fate,
but Jesus said of His betrayer, “Good
[were it] for that man if he had not been born.”
Of course others among the believers
had their difficult moments as well. Following the Last Supper, Jesus left
Peter, James, and John to wait while He ventured into the Garden of Gethsemane
alone. Falling on His face in prayer, “sorrowful … unto death,” the
record says, His sweat came as great drops of blood as He pled with
the Father to let this crushing, brutal cup pass from Him. But, of course, it
could not pass. Returning from such anguished prayer, He found His three chief
disciples asleep, prompting Him to ask, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?”
So it happens two more times until
on His third return He says compassionately, “Sleep on now, and take your
rest,” though there would be no rest for Him.
Later, after Jesus’s arrest and
appearance at trial, Peter, accused of knowing Jesus and being one of His
confidants, denies that accusation not once but three times. We don’t know all
that was going on here, nor do we know of protective counsel which the Savior
may have given to His Apostles privately, but we do know Jesus was
aware that even these precious ones would not stand with Him in the end, and He
had warned Peter accordingly. Then, with the crowing of the cock,
“the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the
Lord. … And [he] went out, and wept bitterly.”
Thus, of divine necessity, the
supporting circle around Jesus gets smaller and smaller and smaller, giving
significance to Matthew’s words: “All the disciples [left] him, and fled.”
Peter stayed near enough to be
recognized and confronted. John stood at the foot of the cross with Jesus’s
mother. Especially and always the blessed women in the Savior’s life stayed as
close to Him as they could. But essentially His lonely journey back to His
Father continued without comfort or companionship.
Following the agony of Gethsemane,
now drained of strength, He was seized by rough, crude hands and taken before
Annas, Caiaphas, Pilate, and Herod. He was accused and cursed. Vicious blows
further weakened His pain-racked body. Blood ran down His face as a cruel crown
fashioned of sharp thorns was forced onto His head, piercing His brow. And then
once again He was taken to Pilate, who gave in to the cries of the angry mob:
“Crucify him, crucify him.”
He was scourged with a whip into
whose multiple leather strands sharp metals and bones were woven. Rising from
the cruelty of the scourge, with stumbling steps He carried His own cross until
He could go no farther and another shouldered the burden for Him.
Finally, on a hill called Calvary,
while helpless followers looked on, His wounded body was nailed to a cross.
Mercilessly He was mocked and cursed and derided. And yet He cried out,
“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”
It is important to understand that the majority of the
Atonement occurred in the Garden of Gethsemane, however it was sealed on the
cross at Calvary.
Now I speak very carefully, even
reverently, of what may have been the most difficult moment in all of this
solitary journey to Atonement. I speak of those final moments for which Jesus
must have been prepared intellectually and physically but which He may not have
fully anticipated emotionally and spiritually—that concluding descent into the
paralyzing despair of divine withdrawal when He cries in ultimate
loneliness, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
With all the conviction of my soul I
add my testimony to the apostles that a
perfect Father did not forsake His Son in that hour. Indeed,
it is my personal belief that in all of Christ’s mortal ministry the Father may
never have been closer to His Son than in these agonizing final moments of
suffering. Nevertheless, so that the supreme sacrifice of His Son might be
as complete as it was voluntary and solitary, the Father briefly withdrew
from Jesus the comfort of His Spirit, the support of His personal presence. It was required. It was central to the significance of the
Atonement, that
this perfect Son who had never spoken ill nor done wrong nor touched an unclean
thing had to know how the rest of humankind—us, all of us—would feel when
we did commit such sins. For His Atonement to be infinite and
eternal, He
had to feel what it was like to die not only physically but spiritually, to
sense what it was like to have the divine Spirit withdraw, leaving one feeling
totally, abjectly, hopelessly alone.
But Jesus held on. He pressed on.
The goodness in Him allowed faith to triumph even in a state of complete
anguish. The trust He lived by told Him in spite of His feelings that divine
compassion is never absent, that God is always faithful, that He never flees
nor fails us. When the utmost price had then been paid, when Christ’s
determination to be faithful was obvious and invincible, finally and
mercifully, it was “finished.” Against
all odds and with none to help or uphold Him, Jesus of Nazareth, the living Son
of the living God, restored physical life over death. With
faith in the God He knew was there, He could say in triumph, “Father,
into thy hands I commend my spirit.”
This
song has always helped me to comprehend better the depth of Christ's
sacrifice and I feel the Spirit each time I listen to it.
DEPTH OF THE ATONEMENT
Not only did He pay the price for
the sins of all men, but He also took “upon him the pains and the sicknesses of
his people.” And He took “upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be
filled with mercy, … that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his
people according to their infirmities.”
The Savior felt the weight of the
anguish of all mankind―the anguish of sin and of sorrow. “Surely he has borne
our griefs, and carried our sorrows.”
Through His Atonement, He heals not
only the transgressor, but He also heals the innocent who suffer because of
those transgressions. As the innocent exercise faith in the Savior and in His
Atonement and forgive the transgressor, they too can be healed.
There are times when each of us
needs “relief from feelings of guilt that come from mistakes and sins.” As we
repent, the Savior removes the guilt from our souls.
Through His atoning sacrifice, our
sins are remitted. With the exception of sons of perdition, the Atonement is
available to everyone all the time, no matter how large or small the sin, “on
conditions of repentance.”
Because of His infinite love, Jesus
Christ invites us to repent so that we will not have to suffer the full weight
of our own sins:
“Repent—repent, lest … your sufferings be
sore—how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear
you know not.
“For behold, I, God, have suffered these things
for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;
“But if they would not repent they must suffer
even as I;
“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the
greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to
suffer both body and spirit.”
When we sin, Satan tells us we are
lost. In contrast, our Redeemer offers redemption to all—no matter what we have
done wrong—even to you and to me.
As you consider your own life, are
there things that you need to change? Have you made mistakes that still need to
be corrected?
If you are suffering from feelings
of guilt or remorse, bitterness or anger, or loss of faith, I invite you to
seek relief. Repent and forsake your sins. Then, in prayer, ask God for forgiveness.
Seek forgiveness from those you have wronged. Forgive those who have wronged
you. Forgive yourself.
HIS RESURRECTION
At the last moment, the Master could
have turned back. But He did not. He passed beneath all things that He might
save all things. His lifeless body was hurriedly but gently placed in a
borrowed tomb.
Now some of the greatest words ever
uttered in all of our mortal humanity are those spoken by the angel to the
weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary when, on the first day of the week,
they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord. Spoke the angel:
“Why seek ye the living
among the dead?
“He is not here, but is risen.”
“He is not here, but is risen.”
Our Savior lived again. The most
glorious, comforting, and reassuring of all events of human history had taken
place—the victory over death. The pain and agony of Gethsemane and Calvary had
been wiped away. The salvation of mankind had been secured. His
atonement in Gethsemane, his death upon the cross AND his resurrection after death
now make eternal life possible for all of us.
The empty tomb that first Easter
morning was the answer to Job’s question, “If a man die, shall he live again?”
The answer is “Yes! He shall live
again!” “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.”
MEANING OF IT ALL
Sisters, one of the great
consolations of this Easter season is that because Jesus walked such a long,
lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. His solitary journey
brought great company for our pathways in life—the merciful care of our Father
in Heaven, the unfailing companionship of this Beloved Son, the consummate gift
of the Holy Ghost, angels in heaven, family
members on both sides of the veil, prophets and apostles, teachers, leaders,
friends. All of these and more have been given as companions for our mortal
journey because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His
gospel. Trumpeted from the summit of Calvary is the truth that we will never be
left alone nor unaided, even if sometimes we may feel that we are. Truly the
Redeemer of us all said: “I will not leave you comfortless: [My Father and] I
will come to you [and abide with you].”
As we are made clean through the
power of His Atonement, the Savior becomes our advocate with the Father. And this is where it made sense to me, as I
pictured the Savior standing at the throne of our Father in Heaven, referring
to me, pleading:
“Father, behold the
sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou wast well pleased;
behold the blood of thy Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest
that thyself might be glorified;
“Wherefore, Father, spare
[Shayla] that believe[s] on my name, that [she] may come unto me and have
everlasting life.”
When I add in my own name here, then
I become aware of the power of the Atonement for ME!
Each of us has been given the gift
of moral agency. “Men are free … to choose liberty and eternal life, through
the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to
the … power of the devil.”
Choose liberty. Choose eternal life. Choose to repent and give meaning to our
Savior’s sacrifice. We are not alone.
This Easter week and always, may we stand by Jesus Christ
“at all times and in all things, and in all places that [we] may be in, even
until death,” for surely that is how He stood by us when it was
unto death and when He had to stand entirely and utterly alone.
In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
