I've kept putting off this post because I'm kind of intimidated by the magnitude of it a bit. It's one of those times that a little hard to sum everything up in words. I hope I can do the experience justice at least somewhat. On May 31st I participated in an activity with my ward that was officially known as The John Moyle Experience, but was unofficially dubbed the Death March by someone in the ward. As it turned out, both descriptions had a bit of truth to them, though for me, I think neither described my day perfectly.
To start out with, I figure I'd better include the video I was able to locate of "Only a Stonecutter", which describes who John Moyle was and what he did. I couldn't find the full video, and this one is edited pretty poorly, but it will at least give you some idea. We watched the full movie at the end of our walk in the visitor's center. This shortened version leaves out the beginning showing Bro. Moyle's conversion and handcart days among other things. The very basic jist of it is that John Moyle is the man who carved Holiness to the Lord on the Salt Lake temple after walking there from his home in Alpine over 22 miles away every week for over 20 years.
Our bishop had been inspired that as a ward, we should commemorate this journey of John Moyle's by walking from the Draper Temple to the Salt Lake temple, which is something that has apparently been done by groups lead by one of our stake presidency members, Pres. Freeman, and his wife before. When I first heard about the idea, it seemed like a pretty cockamamie scheme, but I was certainly willing to try it as I've often thought it would be cool to just see how far I could walk in one direction rather than having to plan out a round trip so I could get myself home. I knew that I could handle at least 10 miles without too much difficulty, but I was definitely not convinced I could do over 20.
All of us who attended the event knew at least a bit about John Moyle, as he had been talked about in brief in church all throughout May, and we had Sis. Freeman speak on the Sunday before and talk basically only about him in sacrament. The truth is, knowing about something is very different than actually knowing something through your own experience, as we were all to learn.
For me, the journey really began in the Mount Timpanogos temple on Friday during ward temple night. It was a very spiritually rewarding session for me in which I learned a number of new things. One of the important lessons I learned came as I was reflecting on the principles of sacrifice and consecration. I'd never really thought about how similar and intertwined these principles are before, but I was struck by it that night.
I had been studying sacrifices according to the law of Moses for awhile previous, so the topic had been on my mind a lot. My general definition of sacrifice after study is "giving up something for the hope of something better. As I thought about how consecration builds upon this principle, I decided that it is well summed up by Rom 12:1 "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." This essentially means that consecration is the dedication of our whole selves to God. I love the idea of it being a "living sacrifice", or basically a continual process of laying down all that we have and are on the sacrificial altar. The realization of our hope for something better then comes in the form of a progressing refinement of our whole selves through the atonement.
We had been encouraged to prepare both physically and spiritually for the temple walk, and on Friday I decided that I would make my participation in this walk a peace offering, or a sacrifice of gratitude to God, in line with what I've been learning from the Law of Moses. I have been blessed with so many things in my life, especially the past few months, that this seemed only appropriate. As soon as I got home from the temple, I went straight to bed to be better prepared to meet at the church at 4:30 AM Saturday morning.
After a quick shower, I made it to the church only a few minutes late, thankfully. From there, we all carpooled up to the Draper temple where we enjoyed a bit of breakfast and getting to watch the sunrise over the mountain while all the drivers who planned to walk were shuttled up from the trax station we were going to return to in the afternoon. It turned out that we didn't get on the road until about an hour behind the planned time, so we already had some catching up to do to stay on track.
Walking down from the temple was one of the most beautiful parts of the trip, but it was also kind of intimidating. You really couldn't even discern the Salt Lake temple from there, though you could pretty well guess where it was, and it was dang far away! Even so, we were all in good spirits as we started our descent through the lovely neighborhoods up on the shelf. The weather was pretty much perfect, which was a nice change, as all of us has been pretty cold in the early parts of the morning while we were standing around. It was fun to be fresh and hopeful at the beginning of this joint venture. I was enjoying the chance to get to know better one of the girls in the ward that I've been companions with in the past for Thursday ward visits. By the time we reached our first stop in a park down in the valley, everyone was still in high spirits. I was not at all thirsty, tired, etc. by the first stop, so after checking in as we were asked to do for safety's sake at each stop, I was quite ready to get on with it. Thus, I ended up setting off shortly after some of the first to leave.
I started off walking near Sis. Freeman and her daughter along with a few people from the ward. In her talk, Sis. Freeman had mentioned that we should ask her about the dews of Carmel, which are referenced in D&C 128:19. We asked her to tell us about them, and she described how Mount Carmel in the holy land miraculously stays green year-round, even in the drought months, thanks to high humidity there which leads to heavy dew nights 250 nights a year. She talked about how there is not always water there, but it always comes when needed, which allows the mountain to stay lush. In a similar way, we don't always receive immediate revelation when we attend the temple, but going there helps us to be ready to receive the inspiration in the times it is really needed.
This was an interesting principle to consider and as I thought about it, I soon began to outstrip the others in the group and was surprised to find myself on my own between that group behind me, though still in eyesight, and one in front of me. It was actually nice to have a few moments to myself. We'd been walking a bit more than 2 hours at that point, and I found it useful to have a bit of time for personal reflection away from the ceaseless talking we'd been keeping up.
Soon I found myself caught up to a couple of people walking in front of me. One of them was Amy, a councilor in the RS presidency. She and I recognize each other and were both at BYU-I around the same time, but neither of us have been able to pinpoint exactly what class, activity, etc. we know each other from. We were having a nice conversation as we came to the next stop, and Amy made a comment about being walking-buddies, so even though she needed a bit more time stopping to address some potentially developing blisters, I felt like I should stick with her for the time being.
Unfortunately, what we didn't realize at the time was that this delay would put us at the back of the pack. This was a no-good place to be, as the policy was that if you fell 2 miles behind the front walkers, you would have to get in one of the rescue vehicles and get driven up and dropped off at the front. Neither Amy or I wanted this to happen to us, as we wanted to walk the entire way, so we ended up doing quite a bit of jogging to catch up. This wasn't ideal, but we still had a good time and ended up running into a few other new people along the way. I was definitely pretty exhausted at the end, though, as it was the longest stretch, 6 miles, before the next break. When we did finally make it to the next stopping point, which happened to be Wheeler Farm, everyone else had been there for awhile and so they were pretty well ready to get back on the road. This stop marked about the halfway point at around 12 miles.
I did fortunately have time at this stop for a few important things. Water, of course, was most significant. Then, I decided that it was time to change my shoes. The inner outside of my left foot had started hurting pretty badly towards the end of the stretch, so it seemed needed to switch to my shoes with much better arch support. The reason I had not just worn those shoes to start with is because they have a much narrower toe box, which I knew would be much more likely to create blisters. Still, my foot started feeling pretty significantly better almost immediately, so it seemed like a good plan.
The last thing that happened at that stop was a short devotional about how John Moyle's life taught the sermon of "holiness to the Lord" that he carved on the temple. We were asked to think of what the sermon of our life would be as we went on the next leg of the journey. For me, this seemed like a pretty difficult question, in that I think what your sermon actually is is probably quite different than what you might like or intend it to be. It seemed that the question would be better answered by people around you. I wasn't sure what my sermon would be, but the thought simmered in my mind the rest of the day.
As we made our way to the next stop a couple miles later, there was less talking and people were clearly more subdued than earlier. In this stretch, we were walking along when we heard a screeching of brakes right near us. I turned around just in time to see a truck hit a car in front of it with reasonable force. I was really hoping that the driver wasn't distracted looking at the big group of us walking. Fortunately, there were other witnesses there, so we were able to keep going.
As we hit about mile 16, I really hit a wall. My whole body was hurting and and it was like my energy had been totally sapped. I was still moving forward at a steady trudge, but I was only dully aware of what was going on. We started walking up a long, shallow incline that went along a golf course I knew I recognized from my mission and I could remember that it was on one side of Interstate 80, but I couldn't place exactly why it was so familiar. As we went under the interstate, I realized we just entering a park in one of my mission areas, in fact, one of the two areas I spent the longest in. It turned out that we were eating lunch in that very park.
As I followed the group toward the pavilion we were going to eat in, everything felt very surreal to me. So many memories came into my mind as I looked for the first time in 7 years at spots that are still ingrained in my mind. There was the skate park with it's strange industrial art sculpture where I have talked to hundreds of skate enthusiasts, the sport field where I'd played soccer with a group of investigators and members, the spot where a bagpiper had once played and I'd insisted we must go talk to him. Though it was out of sight, I could also envision the upper side of the park with the pond in which we'd once seen 12 pelicans at one time, where we'd tried to help and talk to many homeless people, where we frequently met and talked to "Duck Man" as he called himself as he fed the ducks. Though he would never tell us his name, we became such friends that he bought pepper spray for each of us because he was worried about our safety and showed us how to use it. It was a place that we'd contacted countless people and many of those conversations still vividly linger in my memory.
But even as these myriad thoughts tumbled through my mind, I still felt worse than I've felt in a long time. I could barely drag myself to the pavilion where I listlessly acquired some of the food provided and dropped myself at a table away from everyone else. I desperately wanted to walk over the hill and see the pond again, to tread those well-known and well-loved paths, but I also knew it was impossible for me to manage it. I forced myself to eat, though doing so made me feel rather sick, and I made a point of drinking an entire bottle of Gatorade, even though I really am not fond of it.
As I sat, still feeling very much not myself in a bizarre way, I thought about how we were still 5 miles away from Temple Square, and the crushing realization came to me that I would never make it. It was clear to me that I couldn't reasonably go even another 100 ft anytime soon. In my mind, I said a silent prayer and explained to my Father the situation. I told Him how my energy was completely spent and I had nothing left to give. Then I asked God if my sacrifice of gratitude was enough, and if I could ride in one of the rescue vehicles the rest of the way, though I had not completed what I had intended. I pleaded that I didn't think I could go any further. Almost immediately, the thought came to me that I had felt that exact same way in that exact same place many times before. The assurance came to me that just as in times past, I would be given the strength to see it through.
I was very glad I was wearing sunglasses, because I was crying despite my best efforts not to. All to soon, people began to start walking again. I knew I was going to be very slow, so I forced myself to get up and start moving. I felt even worse walking away from that pavilion than I did walking toward it! As I painfully crossed the field, I thought about the hot summer Sunday many years ago in that park that my vision had started swimming then going black because I was so dehydrated from fasting. Then I thought of the first day I had tried to do contacting there after breaking my foot. I distinctly remembered seeing someone a little way from me and trying to get over to talk to them, then watching in despair as they started walking away from me, and I was too exhausted to even call out to ask them to wait for me. My physical weakness had not stopped me then, and I would not let it stop me now.
I felt absolutely terrible, but as I made my way back on to the road, I began to feel a little better. As we left Fairmont Park behind and continued past the Smith's and across 21st, my mind and heart were flooded with grateful memories. As we passed the Granite Tabernacle, I couldn't help weeping in earnest, though I knew I could ill-afford to loose the water, since there had not been enough for everyone to have water at the lunch stop! We passed the patriarch's home next door where I'd spent many evenings with investigators. I kept looking up and down the streets I'd trod so many times, but not for so many years and I had a burning desire to abandon the trek and seek out the people I'd known and taught. Still, I plodded onward reluctantly. My mind was still engrossed in thought as we left the Granite Stake behind and moved forward.
Soon, we were in the Sugarhouse Stake, which was my other 4 1/2 month area as well as the one I had ended my mission in. New memories raced through my mind and more grateful tears fell. I reflected on the tender mercies of the Lord in allowing me to pass along the route that had been so significant to me personally right at the time I had needed that uplift the most. It didn't matter that my entire body still felt horrible or that my feet were getting more painful with each step, I knew that through the grace of God, I would be able to see the journey through. It was then that I realized what I would want my sermon to be. I hope that when people look at my life, they will see that I am willing to give everything required of me to the Lord, in both good times and bad, knowing that He will give me the power to accomplish His purposes for me even when I don't understand what those purposes are. It is a lesson I have learned forcefully myself over the last year or so, and I pray I may help others to learn it as well, if I can.
As we approached our last stopping point before getting to Temple Square, I saw that all the people in front of me had gathered at a gas station on the east side of an intersection. I was so tired and dehydrated from not getting water at the last stop that I just I just plopped myself down in the grass diagonally across from the station. I could see everyone perfectly well, but I knew that they would all just have to cross to my side of the street, and nothing was going to convince me to take any more steps than necessary. Well, almost nothing. I could see one of the rescue vehicles stopping to fill everyone up with water, and very nearly decided to make my way over to get my share, but I was too exhausted for the effort. Another group that had been behind me, but on the opposite side of the street ended up following my lead and just planting themselves at another point in the intersection rather than crossing over to the group,
Finally, it was the last bit. For that last two miles, I knew that I was going to make it, though I also knew that the journey would be slow and painful. It was just a matter of putting in the effort to endure to the end. I was certainly right. Soon I was left behind by almost everyone, but was satisfied to plod along at my turtle's pace. At this point, the road was at least going downhill. I also knew each of the landmarks and was counting down the very familiar blocks.
About two blocks away from temple square, I passed a homeless man sleeping in the front flower bed of a nice apartment complex. As I passed by him, I wondered what his story might be, what had brought him to that point. I walked the next 20 or 30 feet thinking about him, and the many other homeless folks I've met in SLC, then stopped. The thought came to me that I should try to help him. I reasoned to myself that there wasn't really anything I could do, but then remembered that I was carrying a few little snacks in my backpack. I countered that with the memory that The Cathedral of the Madeline provides a soup kitchen for the homeless that is supplied by the LDS church. No doubt this man would be planning to attend there. Besides, I was almost to my destination and I was hurting so much myself. Even so, I thought about how the man could use the food at another time even if he was going to the soup kitchen. The ultimate result of my action didn't matter so much as the fact that I knew I would have completely missed the point of not only the day, but also my own religion if I didn't do what I could to alleviate suffering. I turned around and dug out the few simple items I had to offer, then returned to the man and laid them next to him to discover when he woke up. I've found that I often pass by those in need of help, but sometimes, the spirit will shortly after work on me enough to get me to turn around and correct my mistake. I know that I need to become better at heeding the Spirit's promptings the first time.
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| Some of our group waiting at the temple |
I was all on my own at this point. There were some people a bit behind me, but the folks ahead of me had gotten a pretty good lead on me. As the temple came into view, I of course started crying quite a bit again, though perhaps not for the reasons people probably thought. This time, despite my sunglasses at number of people knew I was crying from coming up to talk to me. A few tear were for John Moyle, but more were from sheer relief that I'd managed to finish, and most were for the joy that God had given me the strength and tender mercies I needed to get through it, the confirmation that He does indeed keep His promises if we will only do our best holding nothing back. After a group shot in front of the temple, we went down to the Visitors Center where we watched the full version of "Only a Stonecutter" that I included the short version of in the beginning. Of course, I cried a bunch more, but at least I'd had water at that point. Heaven forbid my tear ducts shouldn't get a thrashing like the rest of my body! At least it was plenty dark in the theater so I didn't make a spectacle of myself.
After a few words from Pres. Freeman, we started to head to the trax station for our ride back to the cars. The stairs out of the theater were even worse on the way out of the theater than they had been on the way in, probably thanks to the extended sitting! On the train, I ended up sitting by a group of non-members. I struck up some conversation with them, asking about what they'd been up to in SLC hoping to be similarly questioned in response, but unfortunately everyone got stuck on the subject of the bar that some of the older ladies had just been celebrating a party at. Then they went into how they were annoyed by children playing in their community pools. I did my best to steer the conversation into areas where I could share some gospel principles, but wasn't met with much success. To be honest, I no doubt could have done more with it if my brain hadn't been so out of it still. I was definitely no longer firing on all cylinders. Still, I hope something I said might have left some sort of positive influence on those folks.
When we got back to the cars, I was glad that I had not been one of the ones to drive myself or a carpool up to the temple because I wasn't in great shape all-around. By the time I got back into my car, it was after 6:30 and I'd been awake for over 14 hours and my contacts were practically falling out of my eyes. This terrible end-of-the-day vision combined with my hampered reflexes and sluggish brain made me a pretty hazardous driver, but fortunately I didn't have to go far to get home. I got myself some Chick-fil-a for dinner then made the slow tip upstairs to my room to eat and essentially lick my wounds, if you will. I knew that it wouldn't be pretty when I took my shoes off, and of course it wasn't. I had 5 blisters on each foot, with the worst on both on the outer side of my heels. I was so tired, I wanted to go to bed immediately after, but forced myself to stay up a little later so my schedule could hopefully go back to normal the next day.
It wasn't the most comfortable night. Pretty much any way I laid my feet put pressure on some blister or another, and every time I moved in the night, the pain of it woke me up. The next morning when I woke up my body hurt so much that I had some real concern about even attending church. But I realized how terrible it would be to allow such an activity to keep me from the much more important responsibility of attending my meetings. My feet were in such sore shape that wearing any shoe caused a lot of pain. Flip-flops were the most comfortable, but I couldn't permit myself to wear them to church, so I found a pair of sandals that weren't too terrible.
I was very glad that I did get myself to church because we had a great meeting. It was Fast Sunday, and of course most of the testimonies revolved around the previous day. With some difficulty, I got up myself near the end of the time and shared a few thoughts. After we were supposed to be finished, the bishopric members shared their testimonies. Bishop Lemon's remarks were the most memorable as he talked about how he had been inspired over the course of a few months to undertake the walk despite it's magnitude. He had felt that the ward needed a significant experience of physical and also spiritual depth to bring us together and help us grow. Pres. Freeman had then suggested the activity to Bishop, who immediately felt that it was the right thing to do. He also essentially called to repentance those who could have attended, but chose not to. He made it clear that it's our responsibility to make the most of the opportunities that the Lord gives us. I'm trying to do that as best I can. I don't always personally get a lot out of some of the activities like FHE and such, but I know that it's important for me to go still for my own sake and others' as well. You can't really expect more than you are willing to put in.
The physical discomfort of the whole experience lasted for a good half week before I was pretty well back to normal. In fact, my feet are still in the process of recovering from the blisters, though they no longer hurt! Even so, I'm really grateful that I was blessed to participate in this crazy experience. It reminded and reaffirmed to me pretty powerfully of things that are of great importance in my life. While most people probably had their "moment" from the comments I've heard seeing the inscription "Holiness to the Lord" on the temple, for me the climax of the journey happened at Fairmont Park, one of my own temples, a place that has time and time again required "holiness to the Lord" from me personally. God is very, very real and understands each of us so perfectly. He requires a lot of us; in fact, He requires all of us, but as we consecrate ourselves, He also gives us the ability to become more than we ever could have been on our own. The joy that comes from that miraculous relationship with Him surpasses all things, and it's important to find ways to remind ourselves of it often!
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