So, my mom has been giving me a hard time about not writing. The thing is, I’ve had writer’s block. ‘What?’ you might ask. So early in my blog, how can that be? I get super self-conscious about what I write and share, and the anxiety can be paralyzing. The best thing I can do, I guess, is to start putting the proverbial pen to paper and get over it.
I was reading Lehi’s dream this week, and it reminded me of one of my dreams. It happened shortly after Shauna miscarried. During that time, I thought a lot about my life’s direction. In the dream, I was on a path with most of my family; there was an iron rod next to the path, and while most everyone was holding on to the rod, I was not. That’s it – no big revelation, no beautiful tree or mist of darkness, but I knew what path I was on and what the iron rod represented. I’ve had that dream a few times, and it troubled me. I was on the path, things were going well, I was headed in the right direction. But was I engaged?
Lehi’s dream describes two different groups of people on the path. The first set uses the handrail to get to the tree, but they’re holding on as if they’re not quite sure about the whole thing – like tourists in a new city, gripping a map but still a bit nervous. Clinging. The second group, those who ‘Continually [Held] Fast to the Rod of Iron,’ used the handrail, grabbing onto it tightly. They’re like hikers who know the trail is tricky and are determined not to get lost. They hold on firmly and keep going, no matter how thick the fog gets.
The first group gets to the tree and starts enjoying the fruit, but then they notice a flashy building nearby, full of people who are laughing at them. These people feel embarrassed, as if they’ve just been caught singing loudly in their car at a red light. They let go of the handrail and wander off, trying to blend in with the crowd, leaving the tree and its fruit behind.
When they finally get to the tree and taste the fruit, they’re so happy and content that they don’t care about anything else. They’re enjoying the moment, not bothered by what others think.
You know you’re at a crossroads when the Lord says, ‘Hey Mike, I see you, and I know you are on the path, but you haven’t bought in. You have been doing this your whole life, and I see it, and now I need you to know that I see it.’ It kind of sucks to be called out like that! So, I had to make a choice: was I going to continue to walk the path without committing, was I going to cling to the rod, or was I going to make a firm commitment to the Lord and follow Him?
As I reflected on my own journey, paralleled by that path in my dream, I couldn’t help but think about the moments when the path got especially rocky. It’s like when you’re hiking and come across a particularly tricky stretch – where the gravel is loose, and every step feels uncertain. That’s when the temptation to stray off the path becomes real.
In Lehi’s dream, there’s this flashy building filled with people who are laughing and pointing at those trying to reach the tree. It’s easy to see this as just a part of a vision, but let’s get real for a minute – isn’t life full of these ‘buildings’? They’re the places, people, and things that seem so appealing, so ‘cool,’ that we start to wonder if our path is just too dull, too difficult, or maybe even too ‘different’.
I’ve been there, standing on the path, looking at these shiny distractions. They call out with the promise of immediate pleasure, easy laughs, or a quick escape from reality. It’s like scrolling through social media and seeing everyone else’s highlight reels, making you question your own unfiltered reality. The temptation isn’t just to look; it’s to wander off towards them, drawn by the allure of something seemingly better or easier.
So, let’s talk about this temptation to wander – what it looks like, how it feels, and why it’s so darn compelling. But more importantly, let’s explore what it means to stay on the path, even when every step feels like a battle against slipping gravel under our feet.
We have all sung the hymn, ‘The Iron Rod is the word of God,’ but what does that mean? To me, it represents my interaction with God and my relationship with Him. It’s not just scriptures, or listening to (or sleeping through) conferences, or even showing up at church. The phrase ‘Continually Held Fast to the Rod of Iron’ suggests a firmer, more constant, and deliberate commitment to the gospel and its teachings. Those who ‘continually held fast’ demonstrate a sustained and unwavering adherence to the word of God. This group is portrayed as having a more resilient faith, able to withstand the trials and distractions represented by the mist of darkness and the mocking from the building. Their continual, steadfast grip on the rod indicates a deeper, more enduring commitment to their faith, allowing them to remain steadfast in their journey and enjoy the blessings of the fruit.
Knowing that I was at a crossroads, I realized a decision had to be made. It wasn’t about dramatic, overnight change; it was more about acknowledging where I was and where I needed to be. Change is a process, not an event. I didn’t transform all at once, and to be honest, I’m still learning, still growing. Trusting the Lord doesn’t come as naturally to me as I wish it did. It’s like learning to swim in deeper waters – each stroke takes effort, and sometimes I gulp water instead of air. But I keep swimming.
As I’ve continued to lean on the Lord’s support, even in small, tentative ways, I’ve begun to see blessings in my life. It’s not always the big, miraculous kind. Often, it’s the quiet reassurance, the subtle shifts in perspective, or the strength I find in moments I’d expect to crumble. These blessings are like signposts, showing me I’m moving in the right direction.
And with these blessings, my faith grows. It’s not a loud, boisterous faith; it’s more like a seed slowly sprouting in well-tended soil. There are days when I doubt if it’s growing at all, and then there are moments when I see a new leaf and know something beautiful is taking root. This growing faith is what propels me forward. It’s the reason I can look back at that crossroad and not regret the path I chose.
The journey isn’t easy. There are days when old temptations make holding fast seem like an overwhelming challenge. But now, my perspective has shifted. Instead of seeing this steadfast grip as a burden, I’ve started to see it as my lifeline. It’s all about learning to trust not just in the destination but in the strength of my hold, in every moment of holding fast. Each time I choose to hold fast, despite the challenges, I’m not just enduring; I’m growing stronger, becoming more resilient than I was before.
Holding fast has become more than just a way to avoid falling; it’s become a way to actively engage in my journey. It’s a constant reminder of my commitment, a physical manifestation of my inner resolve. With every challenge that tries to loosen my grasp, I find a deeper strength to hold fast even tighter. This is how I’m learning to trust — not in a passive way, but in an active, deliberate choice to keep my hold, even when it’s hard.
And as I continue to hold fast, I realize that the strength of my grip is directly proportional to the growth of my faith. It’s like training muscles I never knew I had. At first, it was tiring, even painful at times, but as I persist, I find new strength, new endurance. This steadfast grip becomes a symbol of my journey — a journey that is teaching me about resilience, trust, and the true meaning of strength.
So here I am, still on this path, still learning how to trust the Lord fully. But I’m moving forward with a faith that’s a little stronger than yesterday, and a heart that’s a little more open to the blessings and lessons along the way
Living the Good News 