Nourishing Faith

Almost two years ago, I stopped at Walmart for a pregnancy test, in hopes of Isaac.  The associate who showed me where to find them struck up a conversation about children, and what a blessing it is to have them.  We shared our stories about having children (her four are all grown) and the Lord's hand in our decisions and such.  She wished me well, and God bless.  It was a sweet, nurturing conversation.

A couple of months ago, as I was signing Isaac and Dorothea up for Mother's Day Out, the registrar struck up a conversation about our children, too.  Hers were getting married and graduating from high school, and she had home schooled them and loved that challenge and opportunity.  I shared some of Isaac's difficulties, and remarked how miraculous his life was, and how grateful I'd been for the challenges and miracles.  We rejoiced together in the goodness of God, and how He can use challenges to bless ourselves and others.  Again, I felt my faith nurtured.

Bentonville has been a place of great nurturing for me.  I read Alma 32 last night and thought about the importance of nourishing our faith, of planting, tending and tasting of it.  It had never occurred to me before that nourishing our faith can be made easier by our environment, but it was very clear to me as I pondered that last night.  Just as it is easier to keep a garden watered and growing and thriving in a warm, humid environment, where the sun shines and rain falls abundantly, I think it is easier to nurture our faith in an environment wherein others nurture it with us.  It is sweet to eat the fruit together, to rejoice together, to work together.  Though the last years have been difficult in many ways, my faith is stronger than ever, and I know that is in part thanks to my faithful community.

Community Garden

This realization led me to another, which is that those who live in a faith desert undoubtedly have a harder time nourishing their little seeds, and coaxing them up into plants which bare fruit.  There are many places, today, where it is so dry that watering one's lawn is frowned upon, or even illegal.  Likewise, I think there are many places where a person's little garden of testimony is frowned upon, and the resources given the garden (hope, belief, a desire for a thing to be true, and acting upon the principle) are scorned.  Instead of "how dare you waste water on your lawn?!" it is "how dare you assert you have truth!" or "how dare you focus on your faith?"  Instead of "how can you expect to make a garden, don't you see this is the desert?" it is "how can you cling to faith--don't you see what a terrible world it is out there?" There is a deceptive sense of scarcity, when really, nurturing faith creates abundance! Instead of "why should you get a garden when everyone else has nothing but dry dirt?" is is "why should you enjoy the peace and spiritual prosperity of the gospel when everyone else is satisfied with the dearth of intellectual correctness."

It makes me think about Lehi's dream, and the people who came and ate the fruit, but then listened to the tauntings and teasings, the mockings and anger of the people in the great and spacious building.  It says they (the partakers of the fruit) "were ashamed."  How can that be?  How can someone be ashamed of relishing in what is sweet and good and right and true?  How can enjoyment of a hard-earned reward be embarrassing?  It could be if the people you are listening to are saying "How dare you? What is wrong with you? Why should you want what we're all fine without?  You think that is good? Hah!  How base to enjoy something so simple.  You have no idea what a fool you look, with that juice dripping down your chin and that smile on your face.  We know better than to enjoy something like that."  But of course, instead, they have nothing to enjoy, other than the satisfaction of not being "taken in" by what is real and rooted, and trading it instead for what is unfounded, but oh so high and mighty.

It makes me sad to consider those deserts of faith.  I know I will not always get to live in this little corner of heaven, this nurturing oasis that has taught me how bounteous and beautiful, how delicious and fulfilling the harvest of faith can be.  How will I guard my little garden then?  How will I feed my children the fruit of faith, that they may know to plant, nourish and reap?  I know it is possible, and the Lord will provide the way.  It will take much more diligence, though, and strength to ignore the ways and words of the world, and eat my sweet fruit without shame, and teach my children to do the same.

Walled Garden with watchtower ;-)