(Chris Detrick | Photo from Tribune file) On November 24, 2017, visitors observe the Christmas lights in Temple Square.
My car jumped forward and then died in the middle of the intersection with a Christmas tree tied to the top and six children holding their breath inside. I had noticed problems as we headed home from the Christmas carol: faint, strange sounds. But my car had just been fixed, so I continued. Until I did.
We had left home that night basically for the free thread, the bee ticket discounts, and the forced joviality of Christmas merriment. The night ended with a trailer as he contemplated the why of the universe. I still don’t know how the car got from the middle of the intersection to the security of the cafeteria parking lot 20 feet away, with a collapsed control arm and tires that wouldn’t roll.
At least that’s what the nice man who stopped to diagnose the problem told me was wrong. Another man stopped later as I stood outside in the cold of the ice to make sure I got home.
The kindness of the strangers warmed the cold night in a corner of Millcreek and reminded me that life was not bad at all.
The repair was quick: I had the car the next afternoon. He also had an updated perspective of the holiday season and the new year.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard to know that I’ve sent a lot of money to a church that doesn’t need it when they don’t have accounts this month (see the car fiasco above).
The conversation about transparency and charity is good, despite the complainant’s obviously malicious intentions. In other words, it’s okay to talk about hard, uncomfortable feelings.
In fact, I think it’s helpful for those who have similar feelings. I would very much like them to see their own struggles and feelings represented by a faithful member and believing that by someone who has left the church. I think when they are represented they are more likely to stay.
For those who respond to these expressions with quotations from scriptures and pious lectures, I wonder if they realize that Christ taught in parables for a reason. Layered meaning, layered teachings, and growth, line after line, are the foundation of the gospel. In fact, the Gospel was restored because of this question. Opposition in all things, after all.
The parable of the prodigal son: is it about loving and receiving the outlandish son or is it more about the condemnation, resentment, and envy of the brother who stayed? Even the good Samaritan: should we learn that we should help anyone who needs it, even if it is different from us? Or are we supposed to understand that the Savior loves everyone, even those who are all forsaken and, above all, ourselves?
I mentioned my updated prospects for the new year. It comes from Psalm 30: 5: “Joy comes in the morning.”
The men who stopped to help me on the street didn’t condemn me first for my broken car. In this new year, we can all give each other more room for doubt, grace to question ourselves, and light to see the joy of the morning.
Michelle Quist is a columnist for The Salt Lake Tribune.