But a Small Moment

In his recent talk in general conference, Elder Neil L. Andersen told a story about his friend Robert E. Wells. He recounted, “While living in Paraguay in 1960 and employed as an international banker, Robert Wells, then 32 years old, and his wife, Meryl, were each a pilot in two different planes, flying home from Uruguay to Paraguay. Encountering thick clouds, Robert and Meryl lost visual and radio contact with each other. Robert quickly landed, where he learned his wife’s plane had crashed. Neither his wife nor the two friends flying with her had survived. His children, at home in Asunción, were ages seven, five, and two.” He told of the terrible grief and guilt that Robert felt after this accident, believing he was responsible for the death of his wife and two friends for not having better prepared his wife to fly. Robert related, “My mind went into a dark daze. … I simply existed—[for the sake of the children,] nothing more. I … lost my desire to continue on.” Elder Andersen described what eventually happened: “In time, Robert was blessed with a deeply spiritual experience. He recounted: ‘One evening, about one year later, while on my knees in prayer, a miracle occurred. While praying and pleading to my Heavenly Father, I felt as though the Savior came to my side and I heard an audible voice speaking these words to my soul and to my ears: “Robert, my atoning sacrifice paid for your sins and your mistakes. Your wife forgives you. Your friends forgive you. I will lift your burden.”’” What struck me perhaps most by this story was the time it took him to receive this spiritual manifestation: one year. That means that he suffered for that full year in anguish of soul from this accident until finally the Lord saw fit to bring him peace.

                This reminds me of the story of the man that Jesus healed at the pool of Bethesda. John related how many sick and impotent people were there trying to be healed by the power of the waters, believing that if they were the first to get into the water after an angel troubled it, they would be healed. He wrote, “And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole? The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.” At that point Jesus performed the miracle for this man who had endured there for so long: “Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the sabbath.” Thirty-eight years this man suffered! Why did the Lord wait so long to heal him? We certainly can’t know, and undoubtedly there was a preparation that needed to take place on the part of this man who apparently had some sins to overcome. The Savior said to him later, “Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee” (John 5:3-9, 14). One of the lessons then from this story is that some healing takes time, even a lot of time, and there may be changes we have to make as we wait to fully receive the mercy we seek. And we may not be able to understand the timing of the Lord and may wonder, as we symbolically wait by the pool of Bethesda when the healing will come, but we have this promise from Elder Andersen: “As you continue to place your trust in Him, your clouds of darkness and anguished sobbing in the night will be transformed into cascading tears of joy and peace in the morning’s light. ‘Your sorrow shall be turned into joy. … And your joy no [one] taketh from you.’ That moment will come. I testify that it will come.”

                I love the message of the song Praise You in This Storm that BYU Noteworthy recently covered. The attitude expressed in the lyrics is how we should approach our suffering as we wait for our own troubling of the water at Bethesda: 

I was sure by now

God, You would have reached down

And wiped our tears away

Stepped in and saved the day

And once again

I say, "A-men" and it's still rainin'

But as the thunder rolls

I barely hear Your whisper through the rain

"I'm with you"

And as Your mercy falls

I'll raise my hands and praise the God who gives

And takes away

And I'll praise You in this storm

And I will lift my hands

For You are who You are

No matter where I am

And every tear I've cried

You hold in Your hand

You never left my side

And though my heart is torn

I will praise You in this storm 

These words could have been from Nephi, who tied up in a literal storm for days said this: “Nevertheless, I did look unto my God, and I did praise him all the day long; and I did not murmur against the Lord because of mine afflictions” (1 Nephi 18:16). As we look to Him and praise Him even in the storm, we will one day discover that with an eternal perspective, our “afflictions [have been] but a small moment” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:7).