A LESSON IN MARBLE

from “The Continuous Atonement” by Brad Wilcox

pages 192-195

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Repenting and remaking broken covenants allows us to feel a deep sense of gratitude to the lord. In those moments of struggle, our needs are accentuated. When we experience our own Gethsemanes, we truly begin to value Christ’s. When we recognize our own weakness, we stand in awe of His strength.

“President, may I speak with you?” The words on the phone were soft and full of emotion. I quickly set an appointment for an interview. The elder who had called was strong, confident, and effective. He had surfaced as a leader among his peers long before he had been officially called to lead. He was a happy missionary who had learned to work hard and had experienced success in reaching the hearts of investigators and members alike.

The time of our interview arrived, and the young man and his companion were welcomed into the mission home. I invited his companion to wait for us in the other room while I sought a private place with my troubled missionary.

“Elder, what’s bothering you?” I began.

“I made a big mistake,” he replied.

Inside I panicked. Noting the many mission rules and how easily they could be broken if the missionaries were not careful, my mind began to expect the worst. In that instant I imagined every possible problem that could have affected this elder’s upcoming honorable release. “What was your mistake?” I asked hesitantly.

“I read The Miracle of Forgiveness,” confessed the elder.

I laughed. “Reading the words of President Kimball is far from being a mistake.”

“But now I realize that there are things I did when I was younger that I should have confessed and never did. There were times when things went a little farther than what I actually told my bishop.”

I listened quietly as he spoke. Nothing I was hearing was so grievous that it would have affected his worthiness to enter the temple or serve his mission. Still, those past sins were affecting him and his feelings of worthiness now.

They needed to be confessed.

He said, “When I was younger I guess I just thought these sins weren’t all that big a deal, but the closer I get to the Lord, the worse I feel about them.”

I explained that what he was experiencing was a very normal and natural step in his spiritual maturity --- one through which we all pass. His repentance and full confession were healthy indicators that he was indeed drawing closer to God and the Savior.

“But President, I look back and see so many flaws. I remember all I have done and feel so ashamed and hypocritical. I know Jesus takes the sins away, but it is the memory of them that bothers me.”

Remembering an analogy I had heard years earlier from Randy Boothe, director of the Young Ambassadors at BYU, I went to a nearby shelf and retrieved a marble egg that had been set there for decoration. I said, “Look at the marble. Isn’t it beautiful?”

The elder nodded in agreement.

“What makes it beautiful is not that it is free from imperfections. If it were clear and white, with no flaws, it would look plastic and artificial. The marble is beautiful and useful because of the dark veins, not in spite of them. When we repent, our sins are gone, but the memories linger, just like these dark lines. However, as we keep our covenants and experience the sanctifying influence of the spirit, it is as if those dark lines are polished over time. They actually become part of our beauty.”

Nephi was not beautiful and useful to God just because he would “go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded” I testified to this young missionary, “One day when you stand before Christ, you too will be beautiful-just like the marble – not because you have no dark, jagged memories in your mind, but literally because you do, and because through repentance and confession you are willing to let Christ and the Holy Ghost sanctify and polish them.”

We prayed together, and the young elder left the mission home feeling much better about having read President Kimball’s book – and about himself. He finished his mission on a high note and with an enthusiasm I’ll always remember.

Many missionaries leave Santiago airport with souvenirs. Some take typical Chilean clothing, ceramics, or wood carvings. Others take goodies to share with their families. They all have lots of pictures and letters from the people they have come to love. This elder was no different when his time came to go home. He was loaded down just like all the rest who were leaving. His arms were full of packages and carry-on bags. There was hardly room for one more souvenir, but I had a small gift I wanted to give him. When his turn came for one last abrazo, I slipped into his hand a small marble egg.

He looked at it, then at me. He said nothing. Nor did I. We both just smiled. One more abrazo, and he was off. As I watched him go—as I watched them all go—they looked wonderful to me. Their missions had not been easy. They all had passed through struggles and challenges, but they had learned so much and loved so freely. They had gone through their ups and downs and had their share of flaws and dark lines, but they were leaving stronger, wiser, and better for the experience. I knew the next few years would be difficult. They might slip up, but I knew the continuous Atonement of Jesus Christ would be there for them. The same Atonement that had gotten them to this point would continue to bless their lives as they journeyed forward. In that moment, I was able to see these valiant and noble missionaries just as their Savior did, and they glowed. To me they were as beautiful and valuable as polished marble.

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The final judgment is not about long lists of things we did or didn’t do right or wrong—it’s much more about who and what we’ve become.