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First Impression

Yesterday we had Stake Conference. It was amazing, and I am grateful for the chance to attend. We have a very interesting stake presidency, one that is a little (just a little) on the unorthodox side. And I find it refreshing.

In the Saturday afternoon session, the Stake President spoke about hypocrisy and how it was keeping people from coming back to Church. At least, that was how it was presented to him - that the hypocrisy that others noted in "faithful church-goers" was an obstacle to those who would otherwise attend. He was quick to point out that if the standard for hypocrisy is perfection then we are all hypocrites, because there was only One who was perfect.

But then he turned a little more introspective. He said - I want you to consider yourself in a church meeting when someone walked in with ratty, dirty old jeans on, a filthy t-shirt, flip-flops (gasp!), smelling of smoke and maybe alcohol. What would be your first reaction, he asked. Would you reach out and shake this person's hand? Or would you turn aside, embarrassed and repulsed by this individual?

I was reminded of an experience I'd had with my dad. We went to attend General Conference with our youth group when I was a kid. We were the last two people who would be able to gain admission to the Tabernacle, and they'd had to squeeze to find space for us. Just as we were about to enter, two women who were not from the States approached (I'm guessing based on their accents that they were from the UK). They were quite elderly and they obviously were unaware or unable to stand in the hours-long line to get into the Tabernacle. The usher looked at my dad and I and said - you've waited in line, so it's up to you if you want to give your seats to these ladies....

Of course we yielded our spots. The usher took us into the Assembly Hall, which is just to the south of the Tabernacle. It was full, also, but the first couple of rows were still open, and dad and I got to sit right up front. The beauty of the pioneer craftsmanship was dazzling - I think it's the most beautiful building on Temple Square - rivaled only by the Temple, of course.

Immediately before the meeting started, the ushers brought in a man. Well, I say a man, but what I mean is more of a walking, greasy, dirt pile. His long hair was matted and filthy. He was wearing an oversized olive drab coat, which had at one time perhaps been made of fabric. But what was most memorable about him was his odor. I have never, ever smelled anything like that - equal parts sweat and dirt and alcohol and feces and who knows what... And when I say equal parts, I mean like 100% of each of them, all at once.

I turned to my dad and, to my shame, said - Dad, how can they let that guy in here?!?

My father, who is incredibly patient and wise, immediately teared up. He said, quietly and with infinite love - Son, how can they not?

I have never forgotten that lesson.

Some people have made choices that lead them down roads that most of us do not know and will never know. Some people struggle in ways that are more obvious than others. BUT ALL OF US STRUGGLE. Besides, who needs the Physician? Those that are sick.

I was sick. I still carry sickness with me. And I need the Physician. I need the healing that comes through the Atonement. Sure, I don't smell like that guy. Maybe my sin isn't as obvious. But I still sin, and I rely on the Savior to save me. Today. Right now. This instant. I need Him.

Dad, in the course of the meeting, reached into his pocket and handed the guy a few dollars. It was all he had. Which was yet another lesson for me.

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