In the next room there is a sleeping two-month-old baby, who, in spite of his tiny size, was able to instigate quite a hefty discussion last week. The time had come to bless our son in church, and my wife was understandably wary of giving a confirmed skeptic like me the microphone in front of her friends and family.
Like many conversations about our religion, this one started awkwardly enough. I assured her I felt perfectly able to fulfill the cultural tradition of blessing my son; behaviorally I am a model of Mormon behavior, certainly “worthy” to perform the task. My wife objected, saying that since I no longer believe in the priesthood it wouldn’t be right to have me pretending to use it. I could understand her worry, and I imagine many of you might agree with her reasoning.
We talked for a few minutes about it before I realized that in all the discussions we’ve had about our religion, I had failed to make one crucial point clear: I do believe that God interacts with his children. I believe he occasionally gives to each of us greater words, understanding, insights, or strength than we are capable of achieving on our own. I even believe that he uses the LDS version of priesthood as a tool to deliver these gifts to his children. But it is obviously not God’s only method for doing so, and his use of the priesthood to communicate with Mormons is far from the black-and-white proof of the restoration that many Mormons believe it is.
When I explained this to my wife, a non-traditional but believing member of the Church, she seemed quite relieved that I allow for God’s influence in my life, and she happily agreed that I should bless our son. I did so yesterday. The gist of the blessing actually came to my mind at 3:30 yesterday morning—roughly six hours before I should have been relying on the spirit to guide my words. Perhaps God gives his skeptical children advanced notice.
After spending the morning rehearsing how I might verbalize the ideas that came to me in the night, I stood in a circle and clumsily stumbled over ideas that should have been simple and beautiful. I blessed him with optimism in a negative world, with tolerance for other beliefs, with a desire to find truth in his own and other religious traditions, and with the courage to accept and learn from his mistakes. It didn’t come to me at the instant I spoke it, it wasn’t at all traditional, and I didn’t use any of the blessing clichés, but I have a feeling that God was pleased nonetheless.
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