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Beguiled
from Steadfastness
by
Davis Bitton
Orson Spencer
was leaving England, but before setting sail he wanted to write
a word of advice to the Latter-day Saints there. It was near the
end of 1848.
Converted to
the Church in 1841, Spencer had been a Baptist preacher. In his
little book, known as The Spencer Letters, he told of his own conversion.
Like almost all converts, he had been enormously moved by the Book
of Mormon.
Like all converts,
too, he discovered that baptism was not the gate of entry to a land
of sugar plums, free of tears, with everyone smiling and perfect.
No, no. The Latter-day Saints were still human beings. Good people,
yes, people whose faith now motivated them and lifted them beyond
their ordinary capacity. But some were hard to get along with, self-righteous,
quick to condemn, unwilling to sacrifice. At least, according to
several sections of the Doctrine and Covenants, this seems to be
the judgment of the Lord on his people. And some of the revealed
teachings were not easily reconciled with previous understandings.
Perhaps a little time was required to get used to them. Several
of the early revelations, even while greeted joyously by some, were
a shock and surprise to others. This was true, for example, of Section
76 with its great clarifying exposition of the degrees of glory.
Imagine how
some early Church members reacted defensively and negatively to
new instruction. I wonder if it didn't begin about April 7, 1830.
We know of such reactions to the Book of Commandments in 1833, to
the Doctrine and Covenants in 1835, and to subsequent revelations.
Decade by decade,
as we follow the course of church history, we discover, in addition
to the faithful and loyal core of believing, committed members,
example after example of those who fell away. Some did so by forming
their own splinter group. Of course each of these insisted that
it possessed the keys and the truth; it was the Church and its prophet-leader,
according to the schismatics, that was off-track, having gone astray.
Hedrickites, Wightites, Rigdonites, Strangites, Morrisites, Godbeites,
and any number of other "ites"— following these side-currents is
interesting in showing human interaction, sometimes courage and
determination, but inevitably, it seems to me, ending in a whimper
of relative ineffectuality and frustration.
Far more numerous
were those who did not join any particular splinter group but lost
interest or enthusiasm in the restored gospel and simply lapsed
into inactivity. Their names might be on the books, but for practical
purposes they were not identified with the body of the Church. Such
people varied among themselves: some remained friendly, some simply
lost interest, some became bitter and hostile. One finds examples
of such drifting away, falling away, or waywardness from the beginning
of the restoration.
After his conversion
to Mormonism, Orson Spencer, like other leaders and missionaries,
encountered many faithful Saints but also some who grumbled about
certain teachings, failed to follow instructions, and lapsed into
inactivity. Certainly he found many such people in England, where
he presided over the mission from 1847 to 1849.
Preparing to
sail for America, Spencer wrote a valedictory statement for his
dear British brothers and sisters in the gospel. It contains two
pieces of valuable practical advice. "Beloved Saints," he wrote,
"suffer a little exhortation before I leave you. Keep the fellowship
of the faithful, lest being alone you are beguiled from your steadfastness
in Christ, and are cast out with the fearful and unbelieving. Let
not the things that you cannot understand prevent you from maintaining
unitedly with your brethren the truths that you do understand."
As for staying
active, we all know the temptation to stomp our little foot and
walk out the door. We also know of the steady accumulation of experiences
and innumerable blessings that come from faithful service.
It is not a
new discovery that peer influence is powerful, which is simply to
say that we tend to become like those we spend our time with. If
we gravitate to the scoffers and complainers, those who disrespectfully
refer to our leaders, those who see themselves as having ascended
to a superior level that allows a condescending attitude toward
the peaceable followers of Christ, we will soon think and talk the
same way. In his highly compressed teachings to the Nephites, the
Savior urged them not only to pray always but to "meet together
oft."
I remember going
through mental turmoil many years ago over issues that then seemed
urgently important. What I needed to learn was to put them "on the
shelf"— Sister Camilla Kimball's metaphor. For those occasional
matters that seemed troubling or inconsistent or unclear her strategy
was to put them on the shelf of unresolved issues. What she found,
and what others have found, is that one by one they are either understood
more fully in the light of other teachings or they fade into insignificance.
More than a century after 1849, Elder Richard L. Evans gave his
own variation of Orson Spencer's counsel: "I am grateful that the
things I don't understand don't destroy my faith in the things I
do understand."
One can readily
add other aids and supports—prayer, the scriptures, the temple—that
also strengthen the immune system. But Orson Spencer's sage advice
remains an effective part of the barrier against a downward spiral
that ends in the loss of something eternally precious. I have written
Spencer's aphorism inside the cover of my scriptures. Perhaps it
belongs on the refrigerator door.
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