His Works Made Manifest

A prelude to this post: I wrote this earlier this week and then let it sit for several days while I stewed over it and wondered if I should share it or not. I hesitated for two reasons: 

1. It includes some personal information about an individual, and even though that person is anonymous, I always worry about invading other people’s privacy.

2. I’m worried that the story is a little boastful, like I’m making myself out to be a hero. 

It may sound silly, but I prayed about whether to post this or drastically rewrite it. I kept feeling like I should post it, but then I would start questioning again. 

Tonight, I highlighted the entire Easter story (which you can read below) and selected “cut.” My writing disappeared like it should have, and I pasted it elsewhere for my own journaling. When I reopened the draft later, the story was back. I had tried to make it go away, and it didn’t work. So I decided to post it. I hope it’s met with the right intent.

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This week's Come Follow Me lesson includes a story of Jesus healing a blind man. John 9:1-3 begins the encounter and reads:

1. And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth.

2. And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?

3. Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. 

Following this passage of scripture, the lesson asks the question:

How have the works of God been made manifest in your life - including in your afflictions?

I contemplated this question as I went through my week, and to be frank, my answer is write-a-book lengthy. I thought of many examples where trials and adversities (my own and those of others) have brought forth the works of God. Don’t worry, I won’t write the whole book here! I’ll just share a tid bit or two.

In 2019 I read Silent Souls Weeping by Jane Clayson Johnson, which is a book marketed to Latter-Day Saints that talks about how to find hope with depression. I was touched by many of the stories, some of which expressed hidden blessings or gifts that people had acquired through the experience of having depression. To that point, I had never thought of depression as something that could yield any sort of good, but that book shifted my thinking, and now I can see how having depression (while definitely not something I'd wish for or hope for anyone else to suffer from) does offer some refining opportunities - primarily in associating with, serving, and understanding other people who have depression. 

On Easter Sunday I came out of my house to go to church and was surprised to find a woman kneeling on the nearby sidewalk sobbing. I went to her, knelt down by her, and asked if she needed help. It took her a minute, but she explained to me some difficulties she was having, including suicidal thoughts, and that everything had surfaced that morning. She was from out of town and was in our area visiting family for Easter. She had left the house upset. She felt like no one loved her. She'd been walking down the street, and she fell to her knees on my sidewalk and couldn't go on.

It's always jarring to have someone tell you they want to take their own life (the older I get, the more I experience this conversation), but I was undaunted because I'm blessed (in a weird way) to understand how depression rears its ugly head. I can't say that I did everything perfectly (from person to person, the needs and receptiveness are always unique), but I was able to be there with her in that moment, and after some time, I got her to a safe place. I have since followed up with her (I practically forced my contact info on her) and have been encouraging her to seek some help. She has expressed gratitude to me for me for being there for her, but I've also expressed my gratitude to her because she helped me, too. She helped me remember that we are all broken in some way and that opening up in our vulnerability can be good. Maybe next time it's me, I will remember her and be more willing to talk to someone or ask for help. 

That morning, I had woken up feeling super ornery and anti-Easter (as I hinted at in this post, which I finished before any of this happened). I was dealing with some afflictions of my own, and I spent all morning thinking about skipping church. Scotty and Nicky went early to take care of some of their duties. I dragged my feet getting the girls and myself ready, and I walked out of my house ten minutes later than I ever do for church. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or maybe that's what time I needed to be on the sidewalk. 

I ended up being late for church, and then I spent the entire time texting the lady from the sidewalk, so I didn't listen to a darn thing (sorry to my friends and husband who spoke in sacrament meeting). But I had a very different Easter after the lady on the sidewalk. I felt very strongly of the Savior's love for her and for me. I felt the power of the Atonement. I just... felt. And I'm not always a person who feels. 

So this is just one little example, one small part of my lengthy book, of the works of God made manifest through affliction. I definitely don’t wish for trials or suffering in any form, but I can’t deny that God’s work comes forth in many ways as we navigate hard things.  I feel like God was manifesting His work through both of us in our individual afflictions - I also felt a sense of reciprocity. It wasn’t just me helping her. I also received something, and if that’s not the works of God being made manifest, then I don’t know what is.