Power upon the threshold

During my freshman year at BYU, it was announced that the LDS church would build a temple in Payson, Utah. I still remember walking across the crosswalk to my apartment right after I’d found out, texting my roommate the tremendous news. I had secretly been hoping for a long time that a new temple would be built in my little corner of Utah Valley. And now it was happening! I felt an excitement that outweighed even the slight disappointment that it was to be built not in my hometown, but in the city of my high school’s biggest rival. Despite that minor set-back to my recent high-school grad self, I knew that my new temple was going to be something special.

And now, nearly six years, a mission, a college degree, and a complete dissolution of any feelings of rivalry with Payson later, I am witnessing the completion of that edifice that I have so long anticipated. In two weeks “my” temple will be dedicated and begin operation as a holy house of the God of Israel. Sacred ordinances will be performed there binding families together, bringing individuals closer to God, and increasing peace and purpose in the lives of all who enter. It truly will be the house of God on earth.

In the Old Testament, the Lord speaks to Solomon at the completion of the temple and proclaims, “I have hallowed this house, which thou hast built, to put my name there for ever; and mine eyes and mine heart shall be there perpetually” (1 Kings 9:3). There is something beautifully powerful in God’s promise that His eyes and heart will be perpetually there in His house. He cares about His temples. What takes place within those walls is sacred, and He is deeply aware of it. His power is present in the temple. There we can feel the nearness and love of Deity.

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to tour the Payson temple during the open house and feel that very nearness of the Lord. I stood in wonder and awe in the celestial room, and pondered on God’s plan for us as His children. In the sealing room I felt the power of the knowledge that families can be bound together forever. I felt that it truly was His house.

Some days after my first tour of the Payson temple, I was able to volunteer there, helping other individuals and families through the beautiful building. Those four hours of standing in various locations in the temple, directing patrons where to go and helping them feel welcome in the Lord’s house gave me ample time for reflection and analysis. As I smiled and looked into the faces of a thousand or so visitors, I came to some realizations about life and presentness that I am still trying to explore and apply in my own life.

My first post as a volunteer was right in the entryway of the temple. Thus, mine was the privilege of looking into people’s eyes as they got their first glimpse of this temple of our God. Many of them, like me, were from the Payson area and had eagerly anticipated this day for years. Others had traveled long distances to be able to feel God’s power in this new house of worship. And almost without exception, they were all very excited to be there. And I doubt they realize the impression they made on the smiling volunteer ushering them into the next room. But I learned a lot from those people that day—from the children and the parents, from the young adults and the old grandparents.

Now, every temple is beautiful—simply elegant and full of the light of the Lord. But I would dare say that the Payson temple surpasses in beauty every temple I’ve ever seen. Perhaps I’m biased since it’s my home temple. (But everyone I’ve spoken with has likewise been floored by the magnificence of this edifice, so I’ll grant myself some measure of credibility. Take a look here if you haven't seen it.). And that beauty is not reserved to just the sacred ordinance rooms, but adorns the entire structure, from the entryway to the dressing rooms. I remember when I took my first few steps into this very entryway, I was amazed by the beauty of the workmanship (I mean, just look at it). The elegant marble floor reminded me of a magnificent church I’d seen in Russia, and I took a detour to examine it more closely. I was blown away by the fine workmanship of even this region of the temple not yet behind the recommend desk. More than just the beauty of the place, however, is the Lord’s power that is there. In the dedicatory prayer of the Kirtland temple, Joseph Smith pleads with the Lord “that all people who shall enter upon the threshold of the Lord’s house may feel thy power, and feel constrained to acknowledge that thou hast sanctified it, and that it is they house, a place of thy holiness” (D&C 109:13). God’s power is present in His house from the threshold to the celestial room and everywhere in between. And now here I was as a volunteer, standing at the threshold of the soon-to-be-dedicated Payson temple, watching people come in and experience the fulfillment of that promise. I was able to see them feel the Lord’s power even at the very first steps into God’s sanctuary.

As I watched hundreds of people cross the threshold into God’s house, I observed what I’m going to classify into two broad categories of reactions: those who were willing to immediately be in awe, and those who wanted to get further into the temple before they gave themselves over to these feelings of wonder. (Disclaimer: this is not a condemnation of any particular way of going through a temple open house. It is merely some musings on an observation with I think can be made into a more general life principle. So if you went through the open house and fell into that second category, don’t worry. I simply I feel that the comparison of these two reactions provides a valuable opportunity for self-reflection when it comes to how we actually live our lives.)

In this first category of temple visitors, we have the groups of older people who temporarily ignored my outstretched hand indicating the direction of the tour and who instead paused in the entry way, examining the floor, the stained glass, the light fixtures, the elegant wooden table, or the beautiful wooden and glass doors. There were those who exclaimed to others in their groups their appreciation of this beauty. There were the parents who reverently invited their children to look at the beautiful glass. There were the exclamations of “Wow! Look at that!” or the silent widening of the eyes and turning to look in all directions. There were the smiles and the lighting up of the faces of those who felt they had entered the Lord’s house. With each of these exclamations and smiles and glow in the eyes, my own heart swelled with continued appreciation and gratitude for the beauty and power of God’s house.

In the second category I saw those who were in a hurry to get to the more “exciting” or “beautiful” parts of the temple. They barely glanced around them as they hurried through the “mundane” entryway to get past the threshold and into the main part of the temple. I’m assuming that most of these people, like I, had previously seen press photos of the inside of the temple. And they were excited to see the surpassing beauty of the celestial room and the sealing rooms. They understood the power and the spirit present in those rooms, and they were eager to both feel and see it for themselves and share it with their families. They came with an awareness of what awaited them. And they were excited. I feel like this attitude was best expressed by a boy of about 9 years. As soon as he and his family were inside the entryway, he exclaimed in a rather loud, impatient voice, “Where’s the sealing room?”And I had to smile at that. Who wants to stand at the threshold when what is even more beautiful and powerful lies within? But I wonder how much this group’s excitement for things to come prevented them from enjoying what could have been a powerful experience even in the entryway. I feel sad that they missed the breathtaking way in which the afternoon sun shone through the elegant stained glass onto the marble floor and created a reflection almost as beautiful as the original. I’m disappointed on their behalf that they didn’t notice the chandelier that is reminiscent of pioneer handicraft. I’m sure that their experience in the open house was rich and powerful and that they felt God’s presence. But could it have been even more powerful if they had been willing to sense that beauty and power even from the beginning?

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying that anybody who walks through a temple entryway without a second thought or glance is a sinner. I mean, I’m about as unobservant as they come sometimes, and often preoccupation with my own thoughts or goals leads me to ignore details around me. (In fact, it wasn’t until my final semester at BYU that I realized there were clocks over the library doors. So it’s going great.) But I just think that this innocuous pattern I observed in the temple entryway illustrates a principle that is applicable in a much more profound and meaningful way in our lives: We have to be willing to see God and His hand around us regardless of where we are. We have to be present in whatever situations we may be in. Because God’s hand is in our lives. Always. Not just in the big exciting moments we’re looking forward to. Not just in marriages or births or graduations. Not just in the more conspicuous areas of society and the church. But in the small things. In the laugh of a child. In the feeling of success that comes from solving a difficult math problem. In the taste of an orange. In the way everything lined up in our hectic day to give us the opportunity to help a young mother take her groceries to her car. God is in the details of our lives. We need to recognize Him. I think there is a certain amount of danger in hastily running from one thing to the next without recognizing the directing, sustaining hand of God in what surrounds us and in what we are doing.

We have to live in the present and see God where we are. Focusing too much on the future can lead us to miss the beauty and joy that surround us wherever we are right now.

And of course we need to have worthy goals in life and be thinking about and preparing for the future. (I mean, failing to do so can lead to a type of “eat, drink, and be merry” attitude where there seems to be no consequences and nothing after today. From a doctrinal standpoint, that’s shaky ground. On the other side of that coin, such a lack of goals and thought for the future can lead to a type of depression that comes from having no purpose. If we as humans do not have things that we’re working for, we feel there is no meaning to our lives in either the future or the present.) But these overarching goals and purposes should not exist to the exclusion of enjoying the present and seeing God where we are. Just because we ultimately want to get to the sealing room doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the time we spend in the entryway. I would dare argue that God even wants us to be happy and aware of him in the entryways and waiting rooms of our lives. He doesn’t want us to wait until we reach some self-appointed pinnacle of achievement before we look around us and say, “Wow. God’s hand is here.” He wants us to see it all along our path. Because He is with us along the entire path.

Even though I may be way more anxious to get into a sealing room than that 9-year-old boy was, I have learned that there is beauty and joy in whatever room we may find ourselves. And that’s because God loves us, and He has blessed every stage of our lives with beauty and purpose. He wants us to recognize His hand wherever we may be, or however mundane or painful our lives may seem at the moment. God has made our lives much more beautiful and glorious than even the Payson temple. And I don’t want to miss that beauty by being too anxious about, excited for, or oblivious to the future. I want to trust in His promises as I work for live worthy of them, all the while relishing the beauty He has created even in the seemingly prosaic entry rooms of my life.